


To the Distant Beloved

by SilverFountains



Series: ARCHIVED WORKS [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarven Politics, Fantastic Racism, Forbidden Love, Hand Jobs, Illnesses, Kili and Thorin being apart and missing each other dearly, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Madness, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Religious Fanaticism, Sexual Tension, Superstition, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS STORY HAS BEEN ARCHIVED AND REPUBLISHED AS PART OF LOFN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apart

The furthest he had ever travelled before was on the hunting trip on which he had first kissed Thorin. It was kind of strangely liberating that his next furthest trip would take him away from those memories. Not that he regretted them. Quite the opposite. That first kiss and every kiss and touch thereafter he savoured like a delicate treasure. But he had had to keep the treasure chest closed and firmly locked or he would lose himself to that spiralling abyss that opened up every time he dared to look inside. He could no longer gaze upon those memories without them being tainted by what had come to pass between them. He could no longer think of Thorin, his love, his life, without that stabbing feeling going deep into his heart. Although dwarves rarely truly fell in love, he had heard of the broken heart syndrome before. But he had never imagined how much it would truly feel like his heart had been broken in two. That it would actually be a physical pain that stabbed deep into his chest.

He relished the daytime. When he was in charge of his small group of bucks and had to make decisions – not big ones, just where to stop and camp for the night or take a break to give his men a moment to stretch their legs and relieve their bladders, but still decisions that others depended upon – and had to keep his mind focused. When he could fill his thoughts with the new experiences and pictures of the amazing world beyond the Northern Mountains.

But he dreaded the nights, when alone in his bedroll he knew that he would be there, in his thoughts, in his dreams. Always there, sometimes smiling and kissing him and occasionally making love to him and other times scowling and sending him away from him, telling him that loving him had been a mistake. Either vision ultimately left him feeling hollow, alone and infinitely sad. And every day he prayed silently to Mahal that He would take his curse away and let him move on. That if Thorin did not want him, he would be allowed to love another.

The first town they came to were the Elvish twin harbours towns of Grey Havens, Thafar'fundsilfînh as the dwarves called it. His brother had told him plenty about it when he had visited the estuary with Thorin, but as always tales could never really do reality justice. Having never seen any Elvish architecture before Kili was simply awestruck when the tall arched structures came in to view. Whereas the Dwarven architecture that he was familiar was strong and bold, with hard straight lines and intricate mathematical patterns, the Elvish architecture was almost organic, with their delicate curves flowing effortlessly over into the surrounding cliffs and wood blending in with stone as if they were part of the same material.

He looked at his companions, seeing the same look of awe on the faces of the younger warriors he had chosen. But the older generation had that sour look that he knew so well from Thorin whenever elves were mentioned. He shrugged. He understood that Thorin and his generation disliked the elvenkind for abandoning them when Azsâlul'abad fell under attack. He knew his kind were one to hold on to grudges for a lifetime. But a century had passed and holding on to old wounds that really related to the decisions of but one elven king was not helpful for anyone. Kili decided there and then that he wanted to spend some time getting to know the elves and their culture. He was intrigued by them, before he had even met one. And if nothing else it went against everything that Thorin wanted. In his defiance against his lover it felt even more like the right to do.

He had brought a translator with him as Balin had told him he needed to do. But to his great surprise they were greeted in the common tongue. He had to crane his neck to look into the dark eyes of the elven guard and he instantly understood why his people hated the elves – apart from their strained history – as the tall creature made him feel like a child rather than a warrior prince.

“I am Prince Kili of Durin,” he found himself puffing up like a crow. “We are travelling to the Southern Ered Luin and we would seek a room for the night and refreshments for our ponies.”

The guard eyed the dwarven company for but a blink of an eye and then opened his palm out from his heart in the elven gesture of friendship. “Welcome to Mithlond, Prince Kili of the royal line of Durin. We will escort you and your company to the inn where you will find food and lodgings and a stable for your horses.”

 _“Are you sure?”_  Vrar signed to him, but Kili gave him a silent response that was as much a sign of reassurance as an order to follow him.

He had expected the elvish inn to be unwelcoming as he had always been told the elves were a stiff and haughty race. So he was surprised when he found it to be cosy and lively. The food was not as good as what he was used to it home, but the vegetables were fresh as was the fish and it filled their bellies with more than dried meats and hard bread. They drank the sour wine, which after the third goblet went down well enough, and before long his younger companions had dropped their guard as had some of the elven folk and they were intermingling, much to the elders’ disapproval.

But Kili smirks contently. Thorin had always been infallible in his eyes. Almost godly. He looked up to everything his uncle said and did as if it with written in The Scrolls. But here, amongst those that Kili had always been told were the enemy and yet so far had turned out to be remarkably welcoming hosts, for the first time in his life he can see a flaw in his uncle’s stubbornness and some of his decisions. And it is refreshing.

Nonetheless as his thoughts travel back home, that sadness boils up inside him again. He misses him. No matter how angry he is with him - with the way Thorin had led him to believe he loved him as much as Kili loved him no matter what, only to push him aside when things got too difficult - he wishes still for those strong arms to wrap around him. For those surprisingly soft lips to brush against his own. To feel the heat of Thorin’s body envelope him completely until he feels like they are part of the same. He sighs deeply and motions to his companions that he is retiring for the night and that he expects them to do the same – and that if they do not they are still expected to report to him fresh and early in the morning so on their heads be it if they let the elvish wine get to them.

As he slides himself under the soft feathery blanket – so much lighter than the thick furs at home and yet just as warm – he suddenly feels infinitely young and vulnerable without his brother or uncle at his side. His insecurity washes over him like a tidal wave and he wraps the blanket tighter around him. He had wished for an opportunity like this – to prove himself as a buck and a warrior – even before he came of age. But now that the moment is here it is daunting. And a little homesickness pulses through him as he thinks of his kin seated around the table without him, his brother sleeping in their room alone. And Thorin … No matter how hard he tries not to think of him he is there in every thought, in every breath he takes. “I love you …” he whispers sadly into the darkness of the room before he pulls the blanket even closer, seeking what little comfort he can find.

***

He had known from the very first moment that he had lost his mind and kissed Kili that he was playing with fire. Not even for the fact that he was breaking every dwarvish law by courting his sister-son. Had it had been sensible, quiet Fili he was sure that they would have been able to spend a lifetime sharing their love in secret. But loving Kili was like forging a sword without protective gloves.  You knew that no matter how careful you were one day you would end up getting burnt. Everything he loved about Kili – his sense of adventure, his untamed enthusiasm and his fiery passion; all those things that reminded him of how he had once been before his easy life had been ripped apart – was also what drove them closer and closer to the edge of the cliff each day. So his decision, on recommendation from his sister, to send his young lover to Lord Suthri’s court had been a wise one. They needed to be apart. They needed that space. Being in too close a proximity to each other was impossible; too dangerous, too tempting …

Having had Kili around but avoiding him but been awful. He could not deal with that look of hurt and disappointment painted across his young lover’s face every time he turned a corner. At least now that Kili was on the road he no longer had to deal with that. And he really hoped that it would do Kili some good. The lad had never been away from Ered Luin without him or his brother. But he was in safe hands. Balin had relayed the names of Kili’s company and Thorin was content with his nephew’s choices; a good mix of dwarves, all loyal and strong, and he knew that would each lay down their life for the young prince should they ever have to.

Yet he could not stop that anxiety that ran through him every time his mind drifted ever so slightly. There were so many dangers on the roads. And Kili was so young still. He hated Kili not being in his eyesight. He hated not knowing exactly where he was or that he was safe. He knew that as soon as the company arrived at Suthri’s court the lord would be sent confirmation of their safe arrival and they had not yet been gone four days. But it felt like he had been without Kili for a lifetime already and he almost had to physically restrain himself from riding on after him.

Instead he threw himself into his new duties as king. Although he had scolded Fili for suggesting that he would abandon his work in the forge as soon as he rose to the throne, in reality his people demanded it of him. Now that he had allowed his people to settle here in Khagolabbad they expected their king to be king, not some labourer for the valley-men and women. So Dwalin had offered to take over his duties in the forge until Fili was old enough to run the business on his own, whilst Thorin spent most of his days in council with Balin. He needed to develop a fair but sustainable levy system so that they could begin to invest in the development and reinforcement of their mountain home. He needed to firm up trade alliances with other races. And he needed to send couriers to Lord Dain to enforce his rule.

He relished those days full of activity, finally taking up his birth right as King of Durin’s folk, even if the other clans would never accept his reign over theirs without the Arkenstone. He knew full well that there would be challenges from the other Lords soon. Challenges over his title and claim to the throne. There was nowhere that said that he could not be king over his own people and it was his right to claim that title with the support of Durin’s folk. But he understood the politics. And elevating  the Durin clan to a kingdom above the other clans was a political move that would no doubt stir trouble along the way. But he would just have to deal with that as and when such challenges came. At least it kept his mind busy.

But as he retires to his rooms for the fourth night since Kili’s departure, his worries for his lover return. As well as his desire. Every night he thinks back to the very first time Kili had made love to him. To feel Kili inside him as his heat pulsed through every bit of his body. To watch him come undone in his arms. To the other time when he had lain with him and had felt that intense heat wrap around his sex until he had lost himself inside his lover. He knows it was wrong to do so. He knows he should never have allowed it to happen. But oh it had been so delicious and he craves for that feeling of joining their love together physically again more than he ever thought he would.  His resolution had seemed so simple. After all he had spent a lifetime spanning well over a century in celibacy. But it had been easy when he had not known what he was missing. When he had not been so in love. But now every cell in him seemed to scream with want to be with Kili, to feel him and make him his again. Even to just kiss him, hold him. And he had spent night after night tossing and turning restlessly, his dreams always full of Kili, of his beautiful brown eyes, his unbraidable wild hair, his cheeky smile and his warm body lying against his.

And as he lays his head on the pillow and pulls up the furs he turns his head to look at the empty space next to him. Once he was a king without a crown. Now he is a king with a crown but without a consort. He knows that it has been the right thing to do to send Kili away for a while. But after only four days he already begins to regret it as he falls asleep alone once more, feeling more lonely than he ever has before.


	2. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is trying to find their place under the new arrangements at Ered Luin.

He steers his pony up the steep slope that leads to the stronghold of Lord Suthri. They have travelled for well over a week and despite the refreshment in the Elvish harbour towns, he and his companions – none of them used to travelling for long anymore - are tired and in need of a bath and a hot meal.

Immediately he notices that the Southern Mountains are quite different to the Northern settlement that he had grown up in. Whereas Thorin’s Halls are dug deep into the mountains on the foundations of the ancient dwarven ruins, the Southern settlement is of a much more recent build with large parts of it above ground. What strikes him most as they trot up the access road are the little dwellings scattered around. In Thorin’s Halls all dwarves live within the walls of the fortress. It makes for easier defence, but also easier supplies and trades. The fortress is a completely self-contained kingdom that can shut its doors to the outside world if necessary and continue as normal for a significant length of time. But Lord Suthri’s home is not like that. The set up feels more like the towns of men than dwarves.

He is even more surprised when he sees bucks and dams stand together as they line the road to greet him and his companions. He glances over to Vrar, the oldest in his company, and one who has been in the Southern Mountains with Thorin before. The elder shakes his head and signs to him that he will answer questions later. And Kili realises immediately that this assignment is going to be more challenging but also more interesting than he first thought.  As the _Farakûnh_ – the dwarves of the Southern Mountains – bow deep before him he feels himself sit up a little straighter in the saddle, suddenly realising that he is the highest ranking dwarf here now. Up till now he has always been in Thorin, Dis and Fili’s shadow, them being his elders in the royal line. And he feels rather important all of a sudden. Never before had he thought about his lineage. Never before did anyone bow this deep before him. The _Fahamûnh_ of the Northern Moutains of course hold him in high regard as one of the royal family, but they do not tend to treat him - or his kin for that matter – with quite the same reverence as these dwarves seem to do.

A very short broad dwarf with a white beard almost down to the ground walks right up to him as he halts his pony.

“Prince Kili of Durin, son of princess Dis, sister-son of King Thorin Oakenshield, Captain of the Northern Guard,” the old dwarf bends down so low that Kili is worried that he may never get up again. He stifles a giggle. That is an awfully long title and he is glad he is not expected to say all that every time he introduces himself. “Welcome to Khagolabbad Faraku. Lord Suthri awaits your arrival. I am Horth, his Lordship’s advisor. Would you please follow me.”

Kili nods to his travel companions and dismounts, watching the others do the same. Immediately dwarves shoot over to them to take the reins to lead their tired animals towards a warm stable. Kili smiles gratefully and follows the old dwarf further up the road towards the large building that stretches out into a stone courtyard. The architecture really is quite unique. The large statues of dwarven warriors framing the gates are very similar to those at home. But the stonework surrounding the doors and windows looks more like some of the elvish designs he had seen in Thaforkûn, although made to fit in with the general design of the dwarves and scaled to suit their shorter stature.

He follows his guide into the large building down the long hall which feeds deeper into the mountain. These halls are not as decorated as Thorin’s are, but they it is sufficiently evident that they have entered a building of importance. “Welcome to Lord Suthri’s Halls,” Horth says as if reading his mind. “Please wait here and I will check that His Lordship is ready to receive you now.”

Kili raises an eyebrow at the older dwarf feeling a little uncomfortable with all this strange formality. He is not sure whether it is not done this way at home or whether he just has never noticed it because Thorin is his kin – and his lover. He suppresses that thought quickly, not wanting to think about that right now. Instead he nods to Horth and glances around whilst they are waiting.

“The Southern faction has its own unique traditions and customs,” Vrar says softly. “Balin has asked me to teach you them over the coming weeks.”

“Thank you,” Kili smiles. “I did notice already that things are done somewhat different here.”

“Indeed. And when you meet Lord Suthri that will become even more apparent.”

Before Kili has a chance to ask any more, Horth returns, pushing the large doors open wide. “Lord Suthri will now receive you, Prince Kili of Durin. You may bring your personal guard and your advisor. The others I will take to the guest quarters so that they can refresh themselves.”

Vrar opens his mouth to protest at such insolence – it should be Kili’s decision whom he brings in with him, not this lower dwarf lord. But Kili raises his hand in silence. He knows his men are wary from travelling and he does not need to bore them with politics at this point. “Thank you, Horth, I appreciate that. Vrar, Skirvir follow me. The rest of you are dismissed.”

As the others gratefully follow Horth towards their allocated rooms, Kili strides through the doors into the large reception hall. He has no idea what to expect. He had not bothered to ask anyone back home what Lord Suthri was like, focused only on his goal to get away from Thorin and from the tension that hang between them. As he walks forward he is surprised to find the large hall set up like a throne room, with the Lord of the Southern Mountains sat on an elevated throne-like stone seat. Lord Suthri may be a lord, but he does not hold the same status as the High Lords of the clans let alone as Thorin, therefore it feels a somewhat odd to Kili to have to look up to this dwarf seated before him, one who ultimately ranks below him.

He straightens his back and pulls his shoulders down to broaden his frame a little as he tries hard not to frown at the dwarf before him. He does not want to cause offence straight away, but it is definitely not right that the other should be looking down on him and he is pretty sure that he would not have received Thorin under such a set up. There is no way his uncle would have accepted it from his subordinate.

“Lord Kili,” Lord Suthri smiles brightly.

He is much older than Thorin with a very long beard, which appears to be the fashion for all here, dams and bucks alike. After all their people are known as the Longbeards, although in Thorin’s court not all dwarrow keep their beards quite this long. The bucks are warriors and such things are impractical for a start. And the dams back home tend to groom themselves in a different style to the men anyway. Nonetheless Kili suddenly feels very self-conscious of that fact his beard is little more than stubble still – feeling outwardly as young and inexperienced as he feels inside. And once again he wishes his uncle was at his side, to guide and protect him. _No, I am an adult and warrior prince. I do not need Thorin to hold my hand_ , he scolds himself. “ _Prince_ Kili of Durin,” he corrects the one before him in a steady voice, reminding him of his place.

“Of course,” Lord Suthri smiles sweetly. “Forgive me, Prince Kili of Durin, I meant no disrespect _._ ”

Kili gives a curt smile and he knows instinctively that he is being tested. That is fine, he can hold his own. And he will not give the older dwarf an inch.

“And what brings you to my Court, Prince Kili of Durin?”

Kili knits his brows together. He knows that a messenger had been sent to advise Lord Suthri of his arrival so why is the other now pretending as if his visit has come as a complete surprise. He realises quickly it is another test. Perhaps one of his manner and his patience and he decides not to take the bait. Does the other expects his temper to flare as easily as Thorin’s does? That would be fair as they are much alike in their temperament. But this is _the_ opportunity to prove himself as an individual adult dwarf, and not just be seen as Thorin’s younger kin. He takes a breath to calm himself and forces a cool smile around his lips. “As I believe you have been informed, Lord Suthri, I am here on a three month assignment on order of King Thorin. I will be joining your Council during this period to gain an understanding of the affairs of this part of Thorin’s Kingdom. In particular I am to document the state of your defences and any weaknesses that I observe. As you are aware there have been increasing threats sighted between our factions and reinforcements may be required. Finally, for my own development I would like to learn more about the cultural differences between our factions, about your customs and local laws.” He takes another breath, steadying his voice, aware that he is blushing in his nervousness and cursing the redness in his cheeks but trying his best to ignore it. “I trust that you and your court will assist me where possible to achieve these objectives and that you will provide me and my companions with a safe and welcome home for the duration of my visit.” He briefly glances over to Vrar who gives him a surreptitiously nod of approval at which he feels some of the tension slide off his shoulders.

Lord Suthri rises to his feet now, stepping down onto the steps before Kili, although still maintaining his elevated position. Kili notices the dwarf is very short indeed, even for their race. He is almost as broad as he is tall and his beard indeed reaches the tips of his boots. He bows his head to Kili, nowhere near as deep as Horth had done, but he seems to at least for the moment have accepted Kili as his senior in rank even if the prince is be over two centuries his junior. “Welcome to Khagolabbad Faraku, Prince Kili. You and your companions will be safe and welcome at my court and I will personally ensure that you are treated as if you were my own son.”

Kili feels a shudder run through him as the dwarf lays a hand on his shoulder. _His own son? What a very odd and inappropriate thing to say that is._ Although the Lord of the _Farakûnh_ has said nothing unkind, he already realises he is going to have to watch his back whilst he is here. And he thinks that perhaps he should have asked Balin more about this dwarf and the _Farakûnh_ before he came here. He will have to ensure that the first thing he does when he has the chance is to interrogate Vrar on such matters.  Once more he understands that he is still young and has an awful lot to learn about the world.

***

He glances over at the young prince riding by his side. They are both tired. The forge has been busy these last few weeks, but that is always good news and neither they nor their assistants who ride a little distance behind them, mind the hard work that much. Thorin had asked him to take over his duties when he was crowned King, having come to the realisation that setting up permanently in Ered Luin and now being the official King of Durin’s folk required a lot more of his time and attention than he had first thought. And Dwalin had reluctantly accepted. He did not really want to spend his days sweating for the valley folk, but if that was his King’s decision then he would not question it.

However, Fili had proven himself quickly as a suitable replacement for his uncle, blooming now that his elder was no longer there to watch over him. Indeed he was a skilled blacksmith with a good eye for quality and a keen ear for trade opportunities. And Dwalin had had but to help out to process the volumes of work that flowed through the smithy, but he had not once needed to get involved in the management of it.

“You have done well, Master Fili,” he nods to the prince. “I will report back to Thorin to let him know that you run the smithy very well on your own.”

“Thank you, Dwalin,” Fili smiles brightly, although a frown falls over his face quickly after. “Will you not be joining me anymore then?” He had grown fond of the company of the big warrior over these last few weeks. With Kili far away in the Southern faction and Thorin being completely caught up in his new duties and responsibilities, he has felt a little lonely.

Dwalin looks at him. “I will assist you for as long as you need me to. But you do not need me to manage the forge, you are more than capable of that without me.”

“Thank you. But I would like it if you continued to help out for now. I mean, if that is not too inconvenient for you that is. It means we can take on a little more work and bring more coins home.” He looks at the mane of his pony, stroking the animal’s coarse hair. “And I like your company,” he says softly.

Dwalin glances over in surprise.  There are not many dwarves who have said that to him in his lifetime. He knows of himself that he can be moody and sullen and he is not an easy talker. And with his high rank and his links to the House of Durin there are few who just come up to him for a casual chat. But Fili is one of the few above him in rank and even closer to Thorin. “I ehm … I will ask Thorin permission to continue to help out for a while longer then,” he grumbles softly.

“I will ask him tonight, at dinner,” Fili says instead and Dwalin nods. It is strange to be in the close company of someone so much younger – someone he has known since he was a newborn – and yet of a higher standing than him. He had only ever thought of Fili as a child up to now; Dis’ child. Only at last Mahalmerag had he briefly glanced at him in a different light, but he had ignored that thought just as quickly, reminding himself of his duty and promise to Thorin to assist his friend with his own predicament. He throws a quick glance over at the prince riding closely next to him. He has not been a child for almost a decade now. And although his youth is still apparent in his features, he is remarkably mature for his age. Then again Thorin has always been strict with him, much stricter than with little rebellious Kili. “You miss your brother,” he states out loud, although it was really just an observation.

Fili looks up at him and nods. “I know he has only been gone a few weeks. But yes, I do miss him. A lot. We have been so close for so long and it is just strange not to come home to him, to hear how his day has been and tell him about mine. To have no-one to go to the tavern with.”

“I can keep you company,” Dwalin blurts out. Instantly he regrets saying it. It is not like he has made an inappropriate proposal to the young prince, which of course would not be acceptable outside of the Winter Festival. Nonetheless it feels wrong to be so forward to one of a higher rank, even if it is Fili. “I am sorry,” he mumbles, “I mean …”

But Fili smiles brightly. “Thank you, I would very much like that.”

***

Thorin has no problem with Fili’s request to have Dwalin assist him in the blacksmith’s for a while longer. It is reassuring to know that his best friend and most trusted guard is keeping an eye on his older nephew; at least that is one worry of his mind. He takes the opportunity to praise his sister-son for his successful management of the forge is his absence following his earlier conversation with Dwalin. And he feels a lot of love for the blond prince as Fili beams proudly back at the compliment. Suddenly he realises that between his new duties and his constant fretting over Kili he has neglected his relationship with Fili somewhat. “Would you like to go hunting with me after the full moon?” he asks and Fili looks at him in surprise.

They both know he has only asked him because Kili is not here, but it does not bother Fili. It will be nice to spend some time with Thorin. He misses his uncle too. Everything has changed so suddenly over the last moon cycle and he is not going to be proud over being second choice. Of course Thorin would prefer to go with Kili – he is his sweetheart after all. But he will be more than happy to assist Thorin and spend some time along with his uncle. “I would love to, Thorin,” he smiles.

“That is settled then,” Thorin ruffles his golden hair, before he retires to his rooms.

When Thorin has closed the door to his rooms he feels a little more light in the heart then he has done for a long time. He knows Kili arrived safe and well at Suthri’s court and he should be receiving his first report very shortly. All is as it should be – they are all safe and doing their jobs and everyone is happy.

He allows his attendants to take his royal mantle and his crown, before he dismisses them for the night. The fire is already smouldering softly in his hearth. Although it is nearly summer the warmth of the sun does not reach this deep into the mountain. He walks into his washroom, pulling loose his tunics in readiness for his nightgown. The basin is already filled with warm water for him. He splashes the water onto his face, washing away the day. He pulls the rough towel over his face and glances in the mirror.

He gasps at his reflection. “Kili?” He drops the towel into the basin, not even noticing he has done it. He blinks hard at the image in front of him. Of that cheeky smile, those beautiful dark eyes glistening with desire, that soft mouth that is begging him to kiss him…

He shakes his head hard and rubs his hand over his face. When he looks in the mirror again he sighs as much in relief as in disappointment. Of course it is his own reflection staring back at him. His mind is just playing tricks on him. He needs to pull himself together. And most of all he needs to let Kili go.


	3. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback always most welcome :D

He has lived amongst the _Farakûnh_ for over a moon cycle now and the longer he is here the more their differences to their Northern kin are becoming apparent to him. It feels strange in a way to feel more like an alien amongst other dwarves than he had amongst the elves. Perhaps it feels more so because he had expected to feel like an outsider amongst the elvish race and their differences were so outwardly apparent. But these are his people, his uncle’s subjects, and yet some of their ways and customs are so completely alien to what he is used to back home that they might as well not be dwarves. Considering they are their closest kin and of the same clan, they could as well live on the other side of Middle Earth as far as Kili is concerned.

For a start he cannot get used to bucks and dams mixing in their daily lives. Every day still he is surprised to bump into dams on his way to Suthri’s court. It seems that there are many more female dwarves here in the Southern Mountains although when he asked Vrar about it he had said it was not so but that it just seemed that way as they were more visible. They do not live together – here too they adhere to that being reserved for the sanctity of _umùradûnh_. But they do live among each other, work among each other. Although they clearly each have their own tasks. In fact whereas back home males and females live separately but hold equal standing, here where they live together the dams appear to all be of lower rank than any of the bucks, carrying out the more menial tasks for their male counterparts. And it is making Kili feel rather uncomfortable. He wonders often if Thorin is aware of this and whether he approves or simply does not care.

Then there are all the formal greetings. At home the bucks occasionally call each other Mister or Master or in anything more official the father’s or mother’s name may be quoted depending on who holds the higher standing. But generally they call each other by their name in the common tongue. Even his uncle most dwarves just call by his known name and Thorin had never made an issue of this. But here in the Southern Mountains everyone seems insistent on quoting aw many titles as possible and it is already beginning to drive Kili mad; an unnecessary formality that adds very little value to any conversation and just means that the already tedious council meetings take even longer for no real benefit.

Also the ranking system that they use back home really is largely a formality that only really carries weight in the art of courtship. But here in the Southern faction all of daily life seems to evolve around who ranks above whom. Even talking to each other is restricted by ranks and anyone more than two ranks below him is not allowed to speak directly to him. It makes for rather awkward interaction with others, when he has to talk in their own language through a third party. And at times like that he wants to shake them and tell them to stop being so damned complicated and stupid. That life is difficult enough without even more silly rules that makes for causing easy offence at every situation.  Already Vrar has had to help him out of somewhat delicate situations more than once, when he had chosen the wrong title or spoken to someone too far below his status. And he thinks how easy going the dwarves back home are in comparison.

At least the other dwarrow he has met so far – those that are allowed to speak with him, which because of his status are few and far between – are kind. They all treat him with far too much veneration and it has taken him up until now to win their trust enough that they feel comfortable hanging out with him. But slowly but surely he is beginning to make friends. And the bucks his age are friendly and very curious about what life is like in the Northern Mountains. None of them have ever had an opportunity to speak to someone from the Northern faction, let alone one of the princes of Durin. Yet he does wish they would just treat him like any other buck when his official duties for the day are over and he just wants to join them for a drink in the tavern. It is very tiring to be treated like a superior to everyone else all the time and he really misses Fili. And he really misses Thorin…

And then there is Lord Suthri. He is never unkind to Kili and has never denied him anything during his stay so far. He has been graciously generous towards Kili’s companions and has treated all of them with sufficient respect. But there is just something about him that Kili does not like. He cannot put his finger on exactly what the dwarf says or does, but he always manages to make Kili feel like a child. Like his assignment is just a classroom and Suthri his elder, ready to lay the cane over his hands like Balin used to do. He wishes he could put into words what it is that the other does that makes him feel like that, but Lord Suthri is clever and tactful enough never to make it too obvious. But it makes Kili distrust him. He wonders what Thorin thinks of this lower lord. He had never heard him speak with any emotion about Lord Suthri, but then again Kili had never bothered much with Thorin’s political affairs. If it hadn’t offered him a way out of Thorin’s Halls and an opportunity to explore more of Middle Earth he would have pulled his nose up at this particular assignment also. Sitting in endless council meetings was boring as hell and he had already mapped out Suthri’s defences twice and did not really know how much more he could do in another two months without just repeating himself over and over again.

He sighs deeply as he rips up the parchment in front of him and adds the ruined paper to the growing pile on the desk. He has started over his report to Thorin at least five times already and he is getting fed up with trying. He knows what he needs to say. But that is quite different from what he wants to say to his faraway lover. He misses Thorin so much. During the daytime he can keep himself occupied enough not to let his mind wander. But now that he is sat here at his desk, forcing himself to talk to his uncle via the written word, he cannot help but think about Thorin not just as his King but as that which he had only been for him.

He knows he cannot send the courier away with this. He knows he will have to burn it in his hearth afterwards. But he writes it nonetheless. The words just spill out onto the parchment in a uninterrupted flow of runes. He needs to get it off his mind, out of his system or he feels he will go mad.

_Thorin, my love, my life._

_I know this letter will never reach you as we are not allowed to talk about this. But I need to tell you, even if it is just through smoke and ash. Even if it is only in my dreams. I love you. I always have and I always will. I love you more than anything in this world. You can tell me a hundred times I must not say it. You can send me to the furthest corners of Middle Earth. But you will always be sanumùradûnuh_ , _my One, my everything._

_I hate you for it. I hate myself for it. I curse this so called blessing every day. If we cannot be then why has my heart been given to you? I know you love me too. I know you are just trying to do what you think is right. But I do not want to live this life of loneliness for eternity. I could have lived with loving you in secret. I could have accepted never being able to kiss you but behind closed doors. But now you have even taken away those smallest of affections, that last token of our love. What is left if I cannot tell you how I feel, if I cannot show you how I feel? What is left between us but memories of something beautiful that we can never have again?_

_Please tell me that I was not a mistake. I gave you my heart and body. Was that a mistake? You have hurt me. You have broken my heart. And still I desire you. Still I wish you would call me back, take me into your arms. You are always in my thoughts, always in my dreams. There will never be another, you know this. If it cannot be you then alone I will die. You are my One, my only. And you were never a mistake. You gave me your most precious gift to give and I will take that memory to my tomb._

_I don’t know why I am even writing this. You will never hear these words from me. I will live the lie you want me to live. But don’t ask me to live it in your shadow. If we cannot be together than I choose to be as far from you as possible. I miss you. I miss ‘amad and I miss Fee so very much too. But you I miss most of all._

_But I cannot be that close and yet that far from you. To see but never to touch you again. To hear you speak, but never those words of love to me again. I cannot do that. I will be your captain, I will be your representative. I will honour the House of Durin. But do not ask me to bow before you again in your court like I am nothing to you but a subordinate. Do not ask of me to live within your Halls like any other dwarf. If I bring you such shame that you will not allow me at your side then I will relieve you from that burden. I will be away from you so that you do not have to look upon me again. So that you are not tempted into sin by me again._

_Farewell my love, my life, my One._

He stares at the letter in front of him, at the blotches where the ink has run into his tears. He stares and stares and the scramble of words until the runes fade into one big jumbled stain of ink in his distorted vision. Just like his feelings. Is that what he wants? To never return home? Never to see Thorin again? He doesn’t know. He feels just overrun with emotions and right now it is the truth. Right now he cannot see Thorin, cannot be around him.

He picks up the parchment and scrunches it up angrily before he throws the ball of parchment into the open fire and watches the paper being absorbed by the flames, which burn a little brighter as they lick up the ink. He continues to stare at the fire through a curtain of salty tears. Tears of hurt. Tears of anger. Tears of total desperation. 

Suddenly he jumps up, grabs his coat and his bow and quiver and storms out of his quarters, slamming the door behind him. He cannot breath. He needs air or he will surely choke to death. And he runs. He runs and he runs until the Southern settlement fades into the night. Until the woods begin to surround him. He knows it is foolish, dangerous, reckless. And he laughs. A sad, hysterical laugh. If Mahal decides his fate in love for him, then surely he decides too whether tonight he will live or die. If he will live through the night, in these strange lands, in these strange woods, or if he will be torn to shreds by the beasts that hunt here. _In your hands it is, Almighty Dwarf Lord. You have taken my love, now take my life also so that I can be free from this pain._

***

He slowly opens one eye. He feels cold and his clothes are clammy with dew, but the sun shines through the tree tops onto his face. He is confused. What is he doing here, in the middle of some strange woods?  Then he remembers. He remembers the letter and he remembers his moment of lovelorn madness. And he smiles softly at the memory.

He rolls himself onto his back and stares up through the tree tops. It is already promising to be a beautiful summer’s day. At home on a day like this he would be begging Dis and Thorin to let him and Fili have a day off. And if such request was granted they would spend the day running through the woods or swimming in the river. And he smiles at those memories too.

So Mahal has decided to spare him. He looks at his hands in the early morning sunlight. Not a scratch. Not even a mosquito bite. “So this is Your decision, Great Lord?” he calls up to the sky above him. “You will not even allow me to die?” And he laughs out loud, shuddering as the absurdity of the situation takes hold.

“You must have trust, little son of the earth.”

He cries out in fright and whips his head around, trying to find the source of the female voice that he heard clear as day and yet there is no-one here. “Who is there?!” he calls out, jumping to his feet and drawing an arrow against his bow. He does a full circle as he scans the area but he cannot determine the source of the voice.

“Lower your bow, little son of the earth.”

“Mahal!” Kili screams as he swings around to face the woman who sounds right behind him. But there is nothing but a large tree in front of him. He narrows his eyes. And then he drops his bow in fright and complete disbelieve as the bark splits to reveal two large eyes staring back at him.  This is not a tree. This is an ancient Ent, one of the protectors of the forest. And then as if from the bark itself appears the figure of a very tall woman, somewhat elflike and yet so different. Instantly Kili falls to his knees, staring in awe at the green clad Vala. “ _Kâmininh_.” _Lady of the Earth._

“Kili.”

“Milady, how …”

“How do I know your name, child of Durin? You are my husband’s earth-child. Descendant of his creation.” Kili freezes as her hand reaches out and touches his face. For some reason he expects it to be cold, but it feels remarkably soft and warm and lifelike. “Your uncle blessed you when he gave you your name, earth-child.”

“Ivanna,” Kili whispers and he bows his head. Mahal’s consort. Queen of the Earth.

“Look at me, son of the earth.”

He tentatively raises his eyes. He is afraid and yet he feels as if he is surrounded by a safety net.

“Ask me.”

“Why are you here, milady?”

But the green lady shakes her head with a smile. “That is not the question of your heart.”

Kili swallows hard. “Why Thorin?” he whispers. “Why did Mahal tell me he was _sanumùradûnuh_ when His own laws forbid us to be together?”

The green goddess kneels down before him. It looks almost as if she is shrinking in size, closer to Kili’s dwarf form. “There will be many trials ahead for both of you, earth-child. But your heart must remain strong. He is your One and you belong to him. The day will come when all seems lost. But you are the key. You will return the heart to your people. And the sun will rise on the throne of kings.”

Kili frowns. “But…”

The green lady lays a finger on his lips to still him and then presses a kiss on his forehead.

***

He lands with a thud on the hard stone floor and looks around him, bewildered. How did he end up here in his chambers? Why did he just fall out of his bed when moments ago he was still knelt on the forest floor, touched by the hand of the Queen of the Earth? Was it but moments ago? He has no idea. He has lost all sense of reality and time. Was it just a dream?

He rubs his face. It did not seem a dream. He looks down. He is fully clothed in the garments he wore last night and he can still see the stains of the damp earth on his knees. Not a dream. He feels in his knotted hair and pulls out an oakleaf. Not a dream. A vision perhaps although who can tell what is real and what is not.

_You are the key. You will return the heart to your people. The sun will rise on the throne of kings._

He scrambles up and tries to find a clean bit of parchment, almost knocking over the pot of ink. He needs to write down those words before he forgets them. Although he instinctively knows that they are already engraved in his memory. He may not understand their meaning, but he knows that  – whether it was a dream, a hallucination of his sorrowed madness, a vision or reality – Lady Ivanna has revealed his destiny to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ref. http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Yavanna
> 
> Yavanna Kementári was a Valië, one of the Aratar and was next to Varda in reverence. She was the elder "sister" of Vána and the consort of Aulë. She was responsible for all things that grew in the earth . Her usual form was that of a tall woman robed in green.
> 
> Yavanna Kementári means "Giver of Fruits" and "Queen of the Earth" in Quenya. Her Khuzdul name is not known although Kâmininh means Lady of the Earth. In Sindarin she is known as Ivon or Ivann.


	4. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Thorin have a frank chat.

It feels like his brother has been gone for years. The first week it just felt weird not having Kili around. The couple of weeks thereafter it had felt kind of exciting to have his bedchamber to himself and he had made the most of it, bedding a very handsome buck who had been giving him ample signs in the hope of his courtship. The sex had been good – and it had been nice not to have to be too quiet either, knowing the walls of his chambers were thick and pretty much sound proof. But Fili found that the novelty began to wear off pretty quickly, as it always did.

Now he is sat alone in his room and he feels bored out of his mind. He really misses his little brother now. He even misses him being a pain in the arse, hiding his clothes, stealing his pillow, keeping him up until the early morning with his silly chatter when they both have to work the next day.  He now wonders if maybe he should not have been so quick to release his lover from his duties, who at least had given him some companionship even if there had not been much talking involved. Truth is that although since his coming of age he had enjoyed plenty of courtships he is starting to get a little bored with bedding his ample admirers just to have something to do. He laughs at himself. He is not even fifty yet and already he sounds like an old goat. Suddenly he worries - he is not going off sex at his age now is he? And become a romantic hermit like Thorin for the rest of his days? He shudders at the thought of it.

It is not that. It is not that he does not like sex anymore. But having seen Kili swoon over Thorin like there is nothing else for him in the world but his lover … Suddenly he realises he wants that too. He feels horrible even thinking it. Knowing how much pain his brother had been in over the complications of his blessing it hardly seemed an attractive prospect – then again Kili’s situation is somewhat unique. Nonetheless Fili wants to experience that; to actually want to be with another every moment of the day and night. To be able to think of nothing else but the next time you will see that person again. To want to lie in that person’s arms long after the peak of pleasure has already past…

He draws in a breath, suddenly realising where all this has come from. It is not that he has become a priest and surrendered his sex life in favour of prayers overnight. He simply wants to lay with one that holds more meaning to him than just physical pleasure. And he knows damn well who it is that is playing with his mind like this. He just has no idea what to do about it.

He possibly holds Dwalin in even higher regard than Thorin. They are both mighty warriors, high in status and many years his elder. But at least Thorin is his kin, his mother’s brother, and he has been close to him all his life – even though since his coming of age Thorin had started to treat him much more as his heir and much less like his baby nephew. But Dwalin to Fili had up until recently mainly been Thorin’s best friend and personal guard. It was only now that he was helping him in the forge every day that he was getting to know him a little better. And he had learnt that he could be remarkably funny – once you understood his dry sense of humour and learnt not to take offence too quickly - and was very kind and caring despite his brisk mannerism.

Once he had had a hard time understanding how Kili could be so dedicated to one dwarf, even if it was Thorin. And that Thorin truly was a virgin– he had never really believed it until Kili had confirmed it - had totally baffled him. Sex felt so good and he could not understand why the one dwarf who could have had his pick of anyone he wanted – well, anyone but the one he had now chosen – had never taken that opportunity for well over a century. He wanted to ask Thorin why. Surely there had to be more to it than him being virtuous? Thorin was just not that kind of dwarf. But whereas Kili clearly had no issue with being that frank and more with Thorin, to Fili he was still his elder and it was just not the done thing. And it was what withheld him from propositioning Dwalin also, even though he knew full well that unless he was willing to wait until Midwinter nothing would happen if he was not the one to take the initiative.

Fili sighs and pulls on his coat and gathers his hunting knives. He had best not leave Thorin waiting.

***

“Is Dwalin not coming with us?” he asks Thorin as they walk towards the stables. He had secretly hoped that the royal guard would be.

Thorin frowns at him. “Dwalin never goes hunting with me. Why would he now? Fili, you know what happened in Duban and the matter has been resolved. I do not need a babysitter.”

Fili lowers his eyes. “I just thought now that you are king…” he mumbles. This is not a good start.

Thorin quickly retracts his spikes. “I am sorry, Fee, I did not mean to snap like that. I am tired is all.”

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Fili replies softly. He had noticed that Thorin seemed worn out these last few days. He eyes are sunk and his skin looks pale.

But Thorin shakes his head. “I will be fine. Some fresh air will do me good and besides I promised you.” He throws his saddlebags over his steed and mounts his pony, watching Fili do the same. “I have been looking forward to this trip,” he smiles.

Summer has well and truly fallen and the air is hot and clammy. They take it easy so as not to wear their animals down and they stop as soon as they reach the little mountain streams that runs off into the Lhûn down in the valley to allow both their ponies and themselves a drink.

“How is business at the forge?” Thorin asks as he pulls a parcel of cold meat out of his bags and hands some to Fili.

Fili nods as he takes a bite, hungry from the ride, and empties his mouth, before he replies. “Really good. We have a lot more orders for fine jewellery now.”

“Well of course,” Thorin praises his sister-son. “You are very skilled in that particular trade. We always used to have clients ask specifically for you. You do our people proud with your talent.”

Fili beams up at his uncle. “Really? Do you really mean that, Thorin?”

Thorin puts his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Of course I do, sweet prince,” he smiles. “I would never lie to you.”

“Never?” Fili blurts out.

Thorin raises an eyebrow and looks closer at his heir. “Never,” he confirms. “Why do you ask? Have I ever given you reason to doubt that?”

Fili shakes his add, blushing slightly. “No, Thorin,” he says quickly. “I … It is …” He takes a deep breath. Thorin does not like him stumbling over his words; he had reprimanded him for that from a very young age telling him that a king needed to speak with confidence and purpose. “Do you think Dwalin likes me?”

Thorin coughs his lunch down before he looks at Fili again with wide eyes. “Dwalin?” he asks, wanting to make sure he has heard him right.

Fili feels his cheeks burn and he stares at the ground, shuffling his feet – another habit that Thorin disapproves of. “Nevermind,” he says softly and turns towards his pony, ready to move on to their hunting spot.

Thorin stares at him in surprise. _Dwalin? Really?_ He had never thought to even consider his best friend and his heir in courtship. For a start Dwalin was more than twice Fili’s age … Then he realises the absurdity of that thought, being guilty himself of courting one so many years his junior. “Dwalin …” he murmurs to himself. Then he smiles at Fili, who does his best to ignore him as he is readying his pony to move on. “Do you like him?” he asks.

“Shall we move on to the hunting lodge now?” Fili regrets raising the subject.

Thorin cannot help his continued smile, but he walks up to his steed nonetheless and pulls himself into the saddle. Once he is seated he looks over at his nephew again. “Don’t be embarrassed, Fee,” he says gently. “I am sure you have heard a lot of things about me recently that I would you rather not know about too.”

At that Fili sniggers softly. It is true. He never thought he would get to hear the ins and outs – quite literally – of his uncle’s performance in the bedchamber.  He dares a glance back at Thorin, who too has a soft blush in his cheeks now. “Do you miss him?” He asks softly.

Thorin is taken aback at the sudden turn of the conversation. “Kili?” He sighs and looks ahead into the distance as he spurs his pony on to walk. “I do. I do so much.”

“You still love him?”

Thorin pulls at the reins, halting his animal as he looks back at Fili. He quickly scans around them to make sure they are alone. “Of course I do. Why, do you think I did not?” He feels a flutter of anxiety in his chest. “Does Kili think I do not love him anymore?”

Fili shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says softly, worried he has raised another awkward subject.

Thorin steers his pony back and forces Fili to look up. “Fili?”

“He was so upset when he left for Lord Suthri’s court,” Fili answers softly, shrinking under Thorin’s stare.

“It is complicated. You know it is,” Thorin sighs. Kili knows it is too. But he is worried now. “Does … does he still love me?” He is not sure whether he wants to hear the answer, but he needs to know now.

“Yes!” Fili replies quickly. “More than anything, Thorin!”

Thorin nods, relieved. “As do I him. More than anything.”

“What is it like?” Fili asks as they continue to ride on at a slow tempo, side by side. “To be in love?”

Thorin cannot help the bright smile that falls over his face as he thinks of his love. “Wonderful. It is the most amazing feeling when you are with that person. Like nothing else matters but the two of you. Like the world could burn around you but it does not matter as long as the other is safe and with you.” He feels the sadness stab at his heart again. “Of course the thing is Kili is never safe when he is with me,” he says, his voice thick with regret.

“I am sorry, Thorin,” Fili says. “Really, I am. You two … you belong together. I wish it was not so complicated. You made him so happy.”

Thorin snorts. “I have hurt him. I have confused matters. He will not forgive me some of the things I said. For what I have done.”

Fili laughs. “Honestly, Thorin, you know him better than that! Kili is stubborn and petulant. But he does not hold grudges. He just wants you to tell him that you love him. He thinks you regret him.”

“Never!” Thorin answers honestly. He had told Kili that, but he realises now that Kili had chosen to only listen to half of what he was saying. Then again, it was a trait that they shared. “I never regretted anything. I just want what is best for him.”

“You are.”

Thorin huffs. Words that sound so easy but are in fact impossible.  He decides to throw the conversation back to where they started, not wishing to drag out his heartache any further with talk of what cannot be. “The honest answer is that I do not know how Dwalin feels about you, Fili. You will need to ask him that yourself. However, I cannot see why he would not like you. You are handsome, kind and of the royal line. You are an excellent craftsman and a strong fighter, both traits highly valued amongst our people.” He smiles at Fili. “And if he did not I would curse him for being a fool.”

Fili smiles softly, but is silent as thoughts race through his head.

“Proposition him,” Thorin nudges him. “Dwalin would be a great suitor and I would very much approve. He is very loyal and trustworthy. He is strong. And he is a Durin.”

“Why have you never courted him?” Subtlety is something else but at least he has asked it.

Thorin looks at him in surprise. He is not quite sure what to answer to that. He takes a deep breath and decides on the truth. He has just promised Fili that he will never lie to him and so he will not. “I had intended to. I had intended for Dwalin to be my first, after the fire ritual. But many dark forces worked against my intention. My coming of age ritual was delayed because of our exile. And we rode straight into battle thereafter. I went into mourning at the loss of my brother and grandfather whilst Dwalin was still grieving for his parents. There never was the opportunity. Or the desire after so many losses.”

Fili nods. That is understandable. “But later? When you had settled our people in Ered Luin? Did you never …?” He feels he is pushing Thorin, but this opportunity will not present itself again.

Thorin blushes and turns his head away. “I felt embarrassed,” he says softly. “I am the highest ranking dwarf in Middle Earth and come the passing of my first centennium I had still not … I did not think anyone would wish to be courted by one as old and yet as inexperienced as me.” He sighs and whispers more to himself than anyone else, “Not even Dwalin.”

He stares ahead, his face set hard. It is the truth but one that he had never spoken out loud before. In fact he had never even admitted it to himself. He had found a hundred and one excuses why he had not courted before Kili had come of age. That he was too busy. That he was still mourning. That he would not give in to such lusts until he had returned his people to their rightful home. But the truth was he had been scared to make a fool of himself. Or worse, for his proposition to be turned down before he even had a chance to embarrass himself further.

He halts his pony and dismounts quickly, pulling his short bow out of his quiver, whilst leading his mount to the edge of the woods to tie it down whilst he goes in search of prey. “Come Fili, or we will return with empty hands tonight.”

Fili nods, understanding that this conversation has come to an end. But he is grateful for Thorin’s honesty. And it makes him feel a little less awkward about his own frets. He still is unsure what to do next, but whatever he decides he knows that he at least has Thorin’s blessing.

***

They agreed to hunt separately and to meet back at their ponies again mid-afternoon, giving themselves at least a couple of hours to return home before nightfall. Fili is pleased with his achievement for the day. He is not as good a hunter as his little brother – Kili is a natural with the bow and already almost equals Thorin in his hunting skills – but nonetheless he has managed to shoot a couple of pheasants and a fat squirrel and he also found a bush with blackberries which he had carefully picked and wrapped in a cloth. Dis will be happy and he already looks forward to his mother’s blackberry pie.  

He is the first to return to their ponies and decides to sneak a handful of the sweet black berries into his mouth before Thorin arrives. Just as he strapping his prey onto the saddle he hears the snapping of twigs that indicates that his uncle is returning as well.

But when he looks over the bright smile that he had in readiness to tell Thorin about his successes quickly drops from his face. Thorin has returned empty handed and his features look haunted. _Orcs_ is the first thought that enters his mind and he is worried that Thorin is injured. “Thorin!” he calls out, running forward, “Thorin, are you alright?”

“Kili?” Thorin answers, looking so intensely at him that Fili feels like he is looking straight into his soul.

He shudders, but he tries to smile. Thorin is tired and this is not the first time he has mixed up their names. In fact when they were younger even Dis used to call them by each other’s names, driving them both crazy. “Fili,” he says with a mocked sternness in his voice. “I am Fili.”

But Thorin does not smile back. He walks up to Fili until he stands right before him. Still he stares deep into his eyes, apparently unseeing even though his stare is so intense. “Kili, why are you here?”

Fili frowns. “Thorin,” he says, more serious this time. “I am Fili. Not Kili.”

“Why are you not at Lord Suthri’s court?”

Now Fili is beginning to get frightened. What is going on? “Thorin!” he raises his voice, trying to call his uncle out of whatever this is. “Thorin, I am _not_ Kili! Stop it, please, you are scaring me.”

Suddenly Thorin reaches out to him and brushes against his face. Before he has a chance to take in what is happening, Thorin pulls him in and bends himself forward to seek his lips.

Fili jumps back in fright. “Mahal, Thorin!!” he shouts out, swatting his hand away. “What do you think you are doing?!”

Thorin falls onto his knees, his eyes still glazed over. “Kili, please!” he calls out. “Why do you push me away? I need you. You are my blessing!” Tears are streaming across his face. “Please, Kili, I love you!”

Fili is in a complete panic, not knowing what to do. Clearly Thorin is unwell. Clearly he is seeing things, truly believing that Fili is his brother. And he does not know how to snap him out of it. In the end he pulls his ale-skin from his saddle and pulls the cork, splashing what liquid is left into Thorin’s face.

It seems to work. Thorin gasps and falls over onto his hands, drawing in a deep breath. Then his head snaps up and Fili is relieved to see that some sense of recognition has returned to his grey blue eyes.

“Fili?” he whispers.

Fili kneels down next to him, helping his uncle back onto his feet. “It is alright, uncle. You … you became unwell.”

Thorin looks at him, confused. “Th … thank you,” he stutters. He draws a hand over his face, frowning at the sticky wetness that clings to his hair. “Ale? What …?”

“I am sorry, Thorin,” Fili says softly, guiding his uncle towards his pony. Does he not remember what happened at all? Should be tell him? “You … you were not responding. It was all I had …”

Thorin smiles a tired, confused smile at him. “Thank you, Fili.”

“I think we should go home now,” Fili says as he helps Thorin into the saddle. He is shaking now. The adrenaline that had rushed through him just now has left his body in a state of high alert and his heart is beating overtime. He tries to calm his breathing down as he unties his own pony and mounts her.

As they steer their ponies around to return home he glances over at Thorin who just looks bewildered and exhausted. He really does not appear to remember what he had said or done. And Fili cannot bring himself to tell him, embarrassed and scared that his uncle and king is losing his mind.


	5. Little Prince

Fili escorts his uncle to his chambers. Thorin is full of arguments that he is fine and does not need any fuss, but Fili knows he is lying. His face is deathly pale now and although some clarity has returned to his eyes, his pupils are still widely dilated. “Thorin, he says sternly, “you are not well and you need to rest.” Before his uncle has a chance to protest, he has pulled the cord to call his attendants who promptly appear. “The king is unwell.” Thorin growls at him, but he ignores him. “Please assist him to his bedstead and call Oin.”

Thorin swats the two attendants who are ready to help him out of his clothes away. “Damn it, Fili, I am fine! I do not need to be put to bed like a cosset!”

The two dwarves look at Fili, unsure who to obey.

Fili motions for them to step back as he steps up to his uncle. “Thorin,” he says kindly, but sternly. “You are not fine. I will send your attendants away only if you at least let Oin check you over. Please, uncle? I am worried about you.”

Thorin stares hard at him but in the end nods. “Very well. Send Oin and then leave me,” he orders his servants who quickly scatter. Once they are gone, he turns to Fili again. “Please do not tell Dis. I do not want her to worry. She worries enough about Kili.”

Fili looks at him with concern but agrees. “I will not. But you must promise me you will look after yourself.” He turns to leave, but Thorin stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“What happened earlier, Fili? I cannot remember. All I remember is aiming my bow at a young deer and the next I am on all fours covered in ale.” It would be funny if it was not for the circumstances.

Fili hesitates.

“Please tell me. What do I say to Oin if I do not know what happened myself?”

That is a fair comment and Fili reluctantly turns back, although what he is about to say cannot be repeated to the healer. “You though I was Kili.” Thorin’s eyes grow wide as he stares at his heir. “You thought I was Kili and you … you tried to kiss me”

“Mighty Lord …” Thorin gasps. “Oh Fili, I …”

Fili shakes his head. “Don’t apologise. You are not well. You need to have some rest and you need Oin to check you over.”

Thorin nods and sits himself down heavily. “I keep seeing him,” he says so quietly it is barely a whisper. “I see him everywhere. He is always on my mind, day and night. It is becoming ever harder to ignore.” He looks up at Fili. “Am I losing my mind?”

Fili sighs and takes a seat next to him. “No, Thorin, you are just tired,” he says reassuringly, although he had had the same concerns himself. He knows – as everyone does – that a streak of madness runs through the line of Durin. And although it seems to have always been centred on gold and power, there is nothing to say that in the absence of both those things the illness cannot turn to a different desire. “You have had a lot on your mind and I know how hard the situation with Kili has been for the both of you. You …”

He does not get a chance to finish his sentence as he is interrupted by a knock on the door. He motions for Thorin to remain seated as he gets up to answer the call. The older healer has a look of great concern across his brow, wondering why he has been called to the king’s chambers at this late hour. Fili invites him in and looks over to Thorin who gives him a nod of reassurance that he can handle this and that Fili is free to go.

“Goodnight, uncle,” he says softly. “I hope you feel better in the morning.” And with that he closes the door behind him, leaving Thorin with his healer.

He walks straight over to Dwalin’s chambers, wanting to get there as soon as possible before he loses his nerve. Not that he has any intentions to woo the head of the guard – he has rather more pressing matters on his mind right now. But nonetheless he feels a bubble of anxiety in the pit of his stomach as he bangs hard on the thick oaken door.

“Fili?” Dwalin asks in surprise as he opens the door after a few moments. He is dressed in a simple shirt and his dark breeches held up by his braces. And Fili muses that he looks a little less intimidating without all his usual attire. “What brings you here?”

“Thorin is unwell. May I come in?” Fili remembers not to fumble over his words as taught by Thorin.

His elder raises a surprised eyebrow but motions him inside, “Aye, come in.” He points to a seat by the hearth. “Can I interest ye in a smoke?”

Fili nods gratefully as he pulls out his own pipe and accepts the pipe tobacco that Dwalin offers him.  The tattooed dwarf watches him light his pipe and take a draw before he sits himself down in the other chair. “Ye said Thorin’s unwell?”

Fili nods again. He wonders why he has even come here, suddenly embarrassed and unsure what to say. But he needs to tell someone. And without being able to tell Dis and with Kili faraway it does not leave many who can share this burden. Dwalin in the only other dwarf he knows he can trust. “He is seeing things.”

“Things?”

“Well, Kili. He told me he sees him everywhere, day and night.”

Dwalin frowns, uncomprehending. “Kili is with Suthri.”

“He is. Thorin is hallucinating it seems.”

Dwalin draws in a sharp breath. He looks at Fili who is flushed and stares at his feet. “What happened?” he asks gently, understanding there is more to this story than what the crown prince has revealed so far.

“He …” Fili takes a deep breath, before he looks up into Dwalin’s piercing eyes.  Momentarily he loses his trail of thought, swept away by the sky blue that sparkles in the light of the fire. And he swallows hard as he tries to get a grip on himself – why is Dwalin making him feel like this? No-one else has ever made him feel like this, freezing the words on his tongue. He clears his throat and starts again. “We went hunting together today. We split up in search of prey. When we met back at the meeting point he was not himself. He kept calling me Kili. First I thought he just got our names mixed up again. But no matter what I said he seemed convinced I was him.” He looks away again, embarrassment fluttering through him once more. “Then he tried to kiss me.”

Dwalin coughs loudly next to him. “ _Yâkùlib Mahal!”_ He looks over at the young prince who bows his head in shame. “Where is he now?”

“In his chambers. Oin is with him. He does not remember any of it.”

Dwalin gets to his feet and paces the room, whilst Fili watches him.

“Are you alright?” Dwalin suddenly asks, looking at him.

Fili feels himself blush under the stare again, but he nods. “Fine. I know he did not mean to. He really thought I was Kili.” Then he adds softly. “I am worried about him, Dwalin. I am worried about the madness …” _And not just for Thorin…_

To his surprise Dwalin walks up to him and kneels before him, taking his hands in his, enveloping them completely. “It is but a tale, Fili. Do not let anyone scare ya. The line of Durin is strong.”

“You don’t believe in the curse of our family?” Fili asks softly, melting once more in those clear blue pools.

Dwalin resolutely shakes his head. “I have seen as many other dwarves lose their mind as I have seen Durins remain sane. Don’t let it become a self-fulfilling prophecy, little prince.”

Fili nods, thankful for the reassurance. Dwalin squeezes his hands softly, before he rises up again. As he stares into the hearth he sighs. “But I am worried about Thorin. We had all hoped that Kili’s assignment would be good for ‘m both. But it appears not.” He glances over at Fili again. “Have ya heard from yer brother?”

“I have. He has sent me two letters. He seems to be doing okay but then it is hard to say. The letters are quite factual, as expected. He has talked a little about his duties and a lot about the differences in their culture and customs. But there is no mention of Thorin in either.”

“Which is sensible,” Dwalin observes. “When is Kili due back?”

“After the next full moon.”

Dwalin nods. “Good.”

“Is it?” Fili asks getting to his feet also. “Nothing has changed. What will they do when he comes back? Nothing has been resolved.”

Dwalin puts his large hands on his shoulders, sending a little shiver down Fili’s spine. “I will speak with Thorin. Do not worry about them, Fili. It will be alright.”

Fili looks into Dwalin’s eyes again, unconvinced but wishing nothing more than to believe the big warrior. “Thank you,” he smiles. Now that the original purpose of his visit has been dealt with, he is beginning to break out into a sweat under Dwalin’s intense stare.

“Is there anything else, little prince?” Dwalin asks kindly and Fili smiles back at the nickname that Dwalin has called him for as long as he can remember.

 _Yes! There is so much else I want to say to you, but I can’t! Why can’t I? I have never had this problem propositioning anyone before._ He reluctantly shakes his head.

“Then I wish ya goodnight.”

Fili nods and drags himself towards the door, kicking himself for not taking this opportunity to tell Dwalin what he really wants to say. He hovers for just a second, but then pulls open the door and steps outside. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he leans heavily back against it, wishing just as much to yank it back open and fly into Dwalin’s arms. What is the matter with him? He has bedded so many dwarves and although many were closer his own age, why should this be any different? In fact surely it should be easier? He knows Dwalin well enough and Thorin has even given his blessing. Why then is he hesitating? Why are the words in his heart dying on his lips?

He is about to walk off to his own chambers. But in a moment of madness he finds his courage and before he has a chance to change his mind he swings round and knocks hard on the door again.

It takes Dwalin but a moment to answer and Fili gives him only enough time to raise an eyebrow, before he pushes him backwards into the room, throwing the door closed behind them as he presses his lips hard against Dwalin’s. As he pulls back to catch his breath they stare at each other, tension bouncing awkwardly between them.

“Fili?” Dwalin asks, shocked by what has just happened. “I … I don’t understand …”

He can feel his cheeks burning fiercely and he cannot help his stutter this time as he tries to find the right words. “I … You … Sorry … I … I like you.”

Dwalin is speechless. Fili? The handsome blond prince, Thorin’s oldest nephew, likes him? “Y’mean like … ?”

Fili nods eagerly. “I would like to court you. That is … If you …”

Dwalin drags both his hands across his face and down the thick braids of his beard. This is rather unexpected. Flattering, but so out of the blue. He had never thought …

“You … you don’t like me that way …” Fili tries to guess the answer as his courage is beginning to fail him again and he thinks he may just have earned himself his first rejection. He eyes the door, wondering if he should just count his losses now and make a run for it.

As Dwalin reaches out for him, he flinches, almost expecting the other to slap him. Instead the gentle brush across his face makes him look back up in surprise. “Y’re such a sweet laddie,” Dwalin says softly. “And I like you too…”

Fili feels his heart bouncing in his chest as confusion threatens to suffocate him. So Dwalin does like him, but he senses the hesitation there.

“But Thorin …”

“Thorin has given his blessing,” Fili blurts out quickly. “I … I told him I liked you. Before he lost his mind that is. And he said you would make a great suitor and he very much approves.”

Dwalin looks back in surprise. And then a smile spreads across his face as he bends himself closer. “You assertive little fox. Is that so?”

“Yes,” Fili’s breath hitches as he can feel Dwalin’s on his face.

“In that case, I accept, little prince,” and he allows their lips to come together again in a soft brushing. He wraps his arms around the slender blond prince and pulls him in closer, letting his warmth envelop them both. “I’m honoured to be yer choice,” he whispers into the thick blond hair, running his hands over Fili’s sleek form.

He gently guides the blond prince towards his bedstead as would be expected in courtship whilst their kisses become more urgent. “Fili, is this real?” he whispers huskily.

The blond pushes Dwalin back and cocks his head, smiling brightly. “Yes!”

“I never thought … You really like me?”

Fili feels his cheeks flare again as the answer to that question surely is quite evident as they are pressed together. “I do. You are so strong and yet so kind,” he gently runs his fingers over Dwalin’s muscular forearms, tracing the battle tattoos painted there. “A mighty dwarf indeed. I … I have had many dreams about you,” he admits shyly.

Dwalin feels a shiver run through him. He still cannot quite believe this is happening. He too has had dreams about the young prince, but during the waking hours he had always been quick to suppress the memory, not deeming himself worthy and certainly not expecting Thorin to approve. He is far too old and hardly the handsome suitor that Fili should be considering. But then again maybe he does have more to offer than the others that have been fortunate enough to have been courted by the crown prince so far – of which he knows there are many. He has proven his worthiness in battle and his loyalty to the House of Durin on many occasions. He is a decent craftsman and he sports a good beard.

“Y’re sure that Thorin …” he begins once more, but he is silenced as Fili clamps his mouth down hard onto his and softly pries him open with his tongue. And he surrenders to the warmth of this kiss as he closes his eyes and returns the teasing with his own tongue. He breathes in Fili’s scent, so familiar and yet never this close before. And he finds himself heat up as he senses Fili’s arousal press against him.

They become a wild tangle of arms and legs as they try to wrestle themselves and each other into a comfortable position and suddenly Dwalin gasps as the slender hand of his young lover slides between them to rub against his crotch. Momentarily primal lust takes over and his large hands roam greedily over the blond prince’s back, grinding up against him. The moment his fingertips feel heated skin under them Fili moans softly in delight.

“Mmm Dwalin,” he whispers huskily as he nuzzles his lips against his elder’s neck, drinking in his scent – a combination of iron and smoke from the forge and his own deep masculine scent. It is prickling his senses wonderfully. He can feel the growing bulge under his playful touch and it sends his head spinning as his body feels on fire. Slowly he pulls Dwalin’s shirt up so he can reach underneath, testing his fingers over his chest as if he is touching gold. He has never taken things this slowly before. Normally it takes him only a few minutes after the first kiss to have his lover naked underneath him. But this feels so different. He thinks about his brother again, how he had spoken about Thorin lying with him like it was something almost magical. Sex was good and reaching that peak was even better, but it had felt like he could not quite relate to his brother’s account of such events. First he had thought it was just his brother’s storytelling running wild, which would not be the first time. He had definitely inherited that skill from Thorin and could turn anything in to the greatest adventure. But as he shivers in delight under the feeling of Dwalin’s calloused fingers roaming his skin, he wonders at what point a physical attraction to someone shifts into something more.

He frowns to himself. Dwarves do not link those two things together. They do not court as an expression of what other races call love. Sex is entertainment, relief and pleasure. As much as drinking ale and eating a hearty meal is. Something one does with friends. Only the very blessed find themselves experiencing that feeling that remains alien to so many. And he is arrogant to think that he deserves such a blessing or that he could be Dwalin’s.

“Fili?” Dwalin asks softly as he can sense the distraction in his lover. “Are you alright? Is this not nice for you?”

Fili pushes himself up a little and runs his hand over Dwalin’s cheek, cupping his face as he smiles. “So nice, _azaghâluh.”_

“Then what is wrong, little prince?” Dwalin asks gently as he runs his fingers along Fili’s neck and into his hair.

Fili sighs and lowers his gaze. “It feels wrong. It feels wrong to want this. To have this with you. When Kili …” He feels the sadness spread in his chest. Why does he feel like this now? He had not felt like this when he had taken other lovers into his bed. But somehow this feels different. Like there is more to it. “It is stupid, I know, and I am sorry that …”

Dwalin grabs his bottom lip, pulling playfully at it to stop him from talking. “It is not stupid and don’t be sorry.” He releases the lip and softly swipes his thumb over it instead. “You are so kind, sweet little Fee. It is what makes ya so special. It is why I like ya.”

Fili smiles, swimming in Dwalin’s bright blue eyes sparkling for him. “So then what is this? What is between us if not …” he trails off.

“Not sex?” Dwalin finishes the sentence, less abashed than the young prince.  “I dunno … Are ya happy to kiss?”

Fili nods, grinning.

“Then we can kiss. And we’ll just see what happens. I am not seeing anyone else. Are you?”

Fili blushes. It was only a few days ago his last lover had left his bed. “Not anymore.”

“Then if ya wish we can still court exclusively. It is yer call, little prince.” He cocks his head, knowing that Fili is the one whose bed is kept warm more than his own. Nowadays he tends to mainly take mates to his bed during the festivals, having lost that young spirited passion to actively go out to find a suitor – which like Fili is normally his call.

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” Fili shakes his head.

“Y’re not asking, I’m offering it ya. I can wait until Mahalmerag if need be, sweet prince. And if I’m honest, I am glad for yer decision. So I can speak to Thorin first. It does feel wrong to do this whilst he has fallen ill over Kili.” He pulls Fili in closer. “Y’re welcome to stay the night though. Nothing needs to happen. That is if ya wish ...”

Fili smiles, snuggling deeper into Dwalin’s warm embrace. “I would like that very much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yâkùlib Mahal = by the grace of Mahal  
> Azaghâluh = my warrior
> 
>  
> 
> I want to sleep with you. I don't mean have sex. I mean sleep together. Under my blankets. In my bed, With my hand on your chest and your arm around me. With the window cracked, so it's chilly and we have to cuddle closer. No talking, just sleep, blissfully happy, silence.  
> http://shareinspirequotes.blogspot.com/2013/05/i-want-to-sleep-with-you-i-dont-mean.html#ixzz34pOQPmxW


	6. Heart & Mind

“Dwalin,” Thorin nods towards his guard and friend as the other closes the door behind him, but returns his gaze to his papers again. Dwalin walks up to his desk and clears his throat to get his attention. “Yes?

“How are ya?”

Thorin sighs, “I am fine.” Is everyone going to ask him every second of the day how he is doing now? Slowly he looks up, trying to suppress his annoyance. “I take it Fili spoke to you?”

Dwalin nods slowly. “He did.” He shuffles slightly. “That’s why’m here.”

“I gathered,” Thorin groans, shoving his paperwork away. “I am fine, Dwalin. I told Oin I have had a few blackouts. I guess I am just tired. I have a lot on my mind at the moment. He gave me a draught to help me sleep.”

Dwalin nods. “That’s good.” He takes a breath. “That is not why I’m here though.”

“Oh?” Thorin looks closer at his friend now. And it dawns on him what the other reason could be for his friend’s visit. The other thing Fili was going to talk to him about … He suppresses a smirk. “Then what? I have not got all day, Dwalin,” he snarls, deciding to enjoy this bit of entertainment.

Dwalin narrows his eyes. “Fili told me he wants to court me,” he states, not one to talk around the subject.

Thorin raises an eyebrow as if this is news to him. “Court you?”

“Aye.”

“And you said what?”

“I accepted.”

“I see,” Thorin lowers his voice to a more menacing tone. “You did not think it would be appropriate to run that by me first since he is my heir?”

Dwalin shifts a little uncomfortably. It is not a requirement – Fili is of age and he had been the one to proposition him as per the appropriate protocol – but since he is Thorin’s best friend and Fili is Thorin’s nephew it is only courteous. “Aye, I did. Which is why’m here.”

“To ask for my permission after you have already accepted his proposal?” he makes his friend sweat just a little more. 

Dwalin clears his throat. “Fili said you have already given your blessing…”

Thorin narrows his eyes. “Did he now? And you believed him? Have you not heard of his reputation? Did you not think the lad would say such a thing just to get his hand down your breeches?”

Dwalin feels the hair on the back of his neck prick up as he flares. “I do not, Thorin. And do not speak of him like that!” he raises his voice much to Thorin’s surprise. “You have no idea! Fili is not like that, he …”

Thorin cannot keep a straight face anymore and a smile breaks across his lips, stopping Dwalin’s rant dead. “I was just messing with you. I did give my blessing.”

Dwalin snorts loudly, “You orc!”

Thorin laughs. “Come my friend, where is your sense of humour?” He smiles warmly at the warrior. “So you like him too. You have accepted his proposition.” He leans back in his chair and grins cheekily. “Have you fucked him yet?” he repeats the crude question that Dwalin had posed him many months ago when he had found out about him and Kili.

He expects a grinned acknowledgement but to his surprise Dwalin sputters, blushing fiercely.

“I have not.” Then Dwalin smirks at Thorin, remembering their previous conversation too now. “Not yet.”

And they both laugh out loud.

Thorin gets up and walks around his desk, placing both hands on Dwalin’s shoulders. “You do have my blessing, my friend. Fili is a lovely lad. I was surprised when he told me he wished to court you. But I cannot think of a better lover for my sister-son than my best friend. Fili has made a good choice.” Then he cocks his head. “It is none of my business, but why have you not …?” knowing full well that aside from his own fumblingly inexperienced courtship with Kili, that is after all the whole point of it. Dwalin avoids his gaze and Thorin knows instinctively what the answer to that question is. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps. “My problems are my problems. I do not expect you or Fili to withhold for my sake.”

“Fili did not want to for Kili’s sake,” Dwalin retorts. “But to be honest, Thorin, I did not mind. He stayed in my bed, if you must know. He slept in my arms and it was nice just to hold him.” There is the briefest shift in Thorin’s gaze and although he immediately returns to a smile Dwalin knows he has hit a nerve. “Thorin, I am sorry,” he begins, “that was thoughtless of me.”

But Thorin waves a hand at him, “I will hear no more of your apologies. You are entitled to your happiness. You have my blessing to honour the obligations of your courtship.”

“And if I wish to take my time over this courtship?”

Thorin raises an eyebrow and glances in the bright eyes of his old friend, seeing something much more than the usual desire that accompanies the taking of a lover. “This is not a one off?”

Dwalin considers this, although deep down he already knows the answer. “Not for me.”

Thorin nods slowly. It is not uncommon for older dwarves who court outside the festivals to take a longer term partner, rather than just have a one-night-stand.  It is not an official commitment and usually it is not even a commitment between the courting partners. They may just agree to remain in courtship for as long as it is pleasurable for both. And often even those agreements are not exclusive. “As long as you are both happy, I am too.”

Thorin is about to turn round, but Dwalin grabs his arms. “And you and Kili?”

“What about it?” Thorin narrows his eyes again.

“Are ye happy?”

Thorin stares at his friend.  “He is safe.”

“That is not what I asked, Thorin.”

Thorin’s eyes grow dark. “What do you want me to say?” he growls at his friend.

“The truth. Are ye two happy?”

He can feel the anger flaming inside him. Is it not obvious? Why is Dwalin digging at his heart like this? “Of course we are not!” he spits. “Why are you even asking me this?!”

“Because I want ya to be happy,” Dwalin says calmly. “Now tell me what we need to do to make that happen.”

Thorin sighs. “There is nothing we can do. You know that as well as I do.”

“Nonsense, Thorin, y’ have never been one to give up on your dreams that easily.” He grabs hold of Thorin’s forearms and forces him to look at him. “When everyone told ya to give up on Azsâlul'abad, ye never listened to them. Ye stuck with yer dream and ye would have found a way in the end. But ye sacrificed that for the good of yer people.” His bright eyes pierce deep into Thorin’s. “Now will ye sacrifice yer happiness also? And Kili’s? How much more will ye give Thorin, until there is nothing left to give and ye’ll be but an empty shell?”

“It is my duty to serve my people. And Mahal,” Thorin retorts.

“Then ye told me yerself that Kili is yer blessing. Now if ye truly believe that, Thorin, it is also yer duty to honour the obligations of _your_ courtship.”

“And how do I do that without breaking our laws?”

“Ye can’t. Ye just have to decide what really is important. Ye cannot please everyone. So ye must make a choice whether to follow yer heart and dreams or whether to live a life of regret of what could have been.” He cups Thorin’s face, pulling him closer. “But no matter what ye choose, I’m always here for ya. No matter what.”

Thorin smiles a sad smile. “Thank you.” And he lets Dwalin pull him close. As they embrace he allows himself to momentarily lower his defences and as he leans into the strong arms of his dearest friend he feels all the anxiety and desperation flow away on a few stray tears, which quickly soak away into Dwalin’s thick tunic.

***

“Be seated,” he nods to the members of The Council. Now that the different factions of the Durin clan have come together under the Thorin’s crown, there are representatives from both the Southern Blue Mountains and the Iron Mountains seated around the table also and as he scans the room he sighs in the knowledge that meetings now take even longer to reach a conclusion having to consider even more opinions and cultural influences. 

He takes his own seat at the head of the table and nods to Balin that he can open the meeting.

The agenda follows pretty much the same pattern as always. There is the overview of the state of the treasuries from Gloin – which are looking pretty good – and Dis updates him on any urgent issues in the dam’s community – of which there are fortunately few as always since his sister and her advisors do an excellent job. Then Dain and Suthri’s representatives give their respective updates on any issues back home, an update on the financials of the other factions and a brief overview of the defences, which at least match Kili’s reports for the Southern Mountains.

The next item as standard is about the upcoming festivals of which there are many in the dwarrow calendar. The last official fest was the Spring Fest which had been combined with Thorin’s coronation. Normally the next one in the calendar would be Ghuregbuzramerag, which was very much a local tradition in Ered Luin. But because the coronation had been such a grand affair, the Council had decreed that the Deep Ale Fest would be combined with the Summer Feast of Good Health.

Thorin listens only half-heartedly to Gorm rattle off the usual preparations. He wonders why they need to go through this in detail every feast again when all seated around the table are old enough to have been through at least half a century or so of these in Ered Luin alone. Any of them could recite the prayers by heart. And as he switches off from the monotone voice of the Highpriest he feels the odd feeling creep up on him again. Previously it had come on so suddenly he had barely had time to recognise it before he had already sunk deep into his darkness. But this time it is almost like he is watching himself slip away from reality and into that strange dreamworld that is like a living nightmare.

The dwarves around him seem to be morphing into something almost translucent. As if he would put his hand straight through them if he reached out and it takes all his self-control not to do so. And although Gorm is the only one talking, the sound feels so amplified in his suddenly oversensitive ears that it is like everyone is shouting around him. He cannot help himself as he presses his hands against his ears and closes his eyes. As he is battling hard with his own mind somewhere deep down a voice is screaming at him to get up and get out. _Kili._ It is becoming a mantra. A prayer for his sanity. _Kili. KILI. KILI!!_ The room around him starts to spin and he knows he is swaying although he is not sure if it his him moving or the room around him. Every muscle in his body is taut as a bowstring now and they are starting to twitch under the strain. And he is sure he will lose the last bit of control at any moment and slide into oblivion again, fearing for what he might say or do in his psychosis.

A hand on his arm makes him jolt and gasp.

“Now, Thorin …” slowly the deep voice of the Highpriest rings through the mist of his delusion. “There is another matter we need to discuss.”

He opens his eyes and is relieved to find the room is no longer moving and his council members are tangible once more. Balin is throwing him a slight concerned look but the others do not even appear to have noticed his momentary loss of function. He tries to focus his vision on the Highpriest.

“Have you chosen the dam that will be carrying your heir yet? It would be good if you would announce your choice at the Feast.”

The gasps around the table are audible and heads flick between the King and the Highpriest as the tension hangs heavy in the air.

“Excuse me?” Thorin manages to utter.

“If you have not yet made your choice, then of course the priesthood will be happy to make a recommendation. With Mahal’s blessing …”

“Fili is my heir.” Thorin states coolly and everyone stares at him, tense with anticipation. He looks to his sister. “Dis’ eldest son, is my heir.”

“Of course, should anything – and Mahal forbid – happen to you prematurely then the young prince inherits the title. But our people expect …”

“You do not speak for my people,” Thorin growls softly.

Gorm narrows his eyes, not happy to be challenged in front of the other council members. “I speak on behalf of Our Lord. The line of Durin needs to flow from the seed of the king. You are expected to produce an heir in His honour.”

Suddenly Thorin rises to his feet. The movement is so swift that the others are taken by surprise as he storms across the room. “You lecherous rat,” he shouts, pointing his finger accusingly at the Highpriest.  “You do not speak for Our Lord. You only speak for yourself and your sister who you wish to see in my bed.” Before anyone has a chance to react, he grabs Gorm by his robes and drags him to his feet. “I will not spill my seed between her thighs just so that you have a blood-link into the royal line, you power-mad son-of-a….”

“Thorin!” Dwalin has managed to get to his feet and drags the king away from Gorm, onto the floor. As he pins him onto his back he growls softly in his ear. “Thorin, pull yourself together!”

“ _Khathághim!”_ Gorm has found his voice now and is pointing a trembling finger at the king. Suthri’s representative quickly comes to the aid of the assaulted priest.

“Get him out of here!” Thorin bellows at the top of his voice.

The long-bearded Southern dwarf and Balin take it upon themselves to guide the Highpriest towards the door. Just as they are about to exit Thorin’s sickness returns with a vengeance. The stress is too much for his already tensed body to cope and as he tries to fight himself loose from under Dwalin’s strong grip his brain shuts down completely.

***  


The bucks stare helplessly at the shaking form of their leader as Dis and her advisors kneel by his side. “Give him room,” Dis sternly orders the others to step away. She yanks off her outer skirt and folds it into a makeshift pillow. Gently she lifts her brother’s jolting head and places on the softer cloth to protect him from further injury. As she whispers soothing words to him his body slowly starts to relax. She looks up to the others. “Leave us,” she orders most of the remaining council members, although her eyes silently order Dwalin to stay. To her personal advisor she says, “Dai, please find Oin and bring him to my brother’s chambers.” The older dam nods and quickly disappears.

When the others have left, she reaches out to Dwalin, who looks deathly pale “Will you carry him?”

Dwalin nods and kneels down. Thorin has stopped shaking now, but his eyelids are still fluttering. Dwalin looks to Dis for answers. He has never seen anything like this before and he is scared to death for his friend. “What is wrong with him?”

“He will be alright,” she sooths the warrior as she places a gentle kiss on her brother’s forehead. “He needs to rest, but he will be alright.” She has no more answers than that right now either. And although Oin is Thorin’s personal physician, she may just consult one of her own healers on what ails her brother. Right now they need to get him to his rooms and then she will need to find Balin to consult on how they will handle Gorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khathághim = literally: provoker, accuser. One who challenges the word of a priest of Mahal which is a serious crime.


	7. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy and as always I would love to hear your feedback XD

“With all due respect, prince Kili, but we have not had a breach of our defences since before you were born,” Lord Suthri says.

Although the tone is polite, the words and the undertone are clear enough. Kili can feel his cheeks turning red, as they always do when he feels challenged. He is fed up with all of this. He had spent over two months trying to do what Thorin had assigned to him – to learn about the Southern Faction and make recommendations to strengthen their defences with the authority to make further recommendations for any other improvements he could identify. But at every point he had come up against Suthri and his council thwarting anything he tried to do.              No matter what he said or did, they continued to look upon him as but a child rather than a strategic leader and the most senior in rank. And he feels utterly miserable because of it.

Vrar had noticed it too and to be fair to the older dwarf he had done his best to aid Kili in his tasks, complimenting his observations and supporting his recommendations. But he ranked too far below Lord Suthri and his council to have any influence.

Kili takes a deep breath, willing the angry blush to subside – which of course only makes it worse and he knows Suthri can see it too. Slowly he raises his eyes to meet those of the Southern Lord. “That may be so, but then there have been no orc attacks in this region since our people settled in Khagolabbad. Now that reports of such a threat are becoming more serious, I think your should consider my recommendations carefully.”

Lord Suthri considers him and then bends himself towards Horth, whispering a quiet exchange after which both return their gaze to him with what Kili can only interpret as a undermining smile. “Thank you, prince Kili, for your recommendation. The council shall duly consider it,” Horth replies.

Kili does not realise he is digging his nails into his palms at the insult until Vrar actually retorts, “I think that would be very wise.”

Lord Suthri and Horth both look like they want to make a comment about Vrar not having a voice at the council meeting, however, they are both well aware that Horth responding to Kili’s recommendation rather than Lord Suthri himself had implied enough of a disregard for the prince’s title to put them in no position to make any such comment.  

The remainder of the meeting is laced with awkward tension and Kili wants to run out of the door as soon as Horth closes the council meeting when no other business is raised.

As soon as they are out of hearing distance, he turns to Vrar who looks suitably embarrassed and uncomfortable at the way the prince has been treated today and thus far. He opens his mouth to apologise to the brunet prince, but Kili interrupts him before he has a chance to speak. “We are leaving,” he states. “I have had enough of this. I have done what Thorin asked me to do. I have learnt what I can about these dwarves and their odd customs. I have documented their defence strategy and their patrols and I have made my recommendations on how those can be improved. If Suthri does not want to listen that is his problem. But I have had a guts full of being treated like a cosset.”

Vrar does not disagree with Kili but he is a little nervous about calling the assignment to an early finish. Nonetheless this is Kili’s call. “I shall inform Horth of your decision, _Ezbaduh_ , and I shall inform our company to ready themselves for our imminent return to Thorin’s Halls.”

“No,” Kili says with authority. “You can tell Horth and you can send most of the company back to Thorin’s Halls. But you and Skirvir are accompanying me to Thaforkûn.”

Vrar splutters for a second, trying to find the right words so as not to insult his ranking Lord but equally needing to point out to Kili that King Thorin will not be pleased for his nephew to go off on his own unauthorised adventure. “ _Ezbad_ Kili, King Thorin …”

Kili’s face clouds over the moment his uncle’s name is mentioned. “You obey my orders, not his,” he snaps at Vrar. “Now do as I say.” And turns on his heels and storms off.

Vrar is left staring at the prince’s back. Kili has never snapped at him before, has never pulled rank on him before. He understands Kili is angry at Lord Suthri  and he thinks he has every right to. But this is decision is sure to displease the King.

***

Kili is sat cross legged on the window sill, penning his letter to Thorin which he will send ahead via a messenger. The company with all their entourage and their pack animals will take time to travel back north. But a lone messenger can take the quicker mountain path and they are trained to ride on for up to twenty hours non-stop, which would enable them to reach Thorin’s Halls in just over three days.

So far he had sent Thorin two reports and he will include his final report with this letter. When he had written his first report he had almost lost his wits in his anguish over his lost lover. That was when he had run out into the wild woods in search for an end to his misery, but Mahal has spared him. The vision of Ivanna offering him comfort is still fresh in his mind and he has pondered her foretelling over and over – without success. But the knowledge that Mahal and Ivanna are still watching over him has brought him much comfort and he has spent every morning in the temple meditating.

Fili had always told him he was odd to spend so much time in the temple back home. That it did not seem to fit in with the rest of his character. And it was true, Kili had no patience for anything that required him to sit still for longer than a few minutes; something that Balin would be happy to confirm. But this was different. He liked to talk to Mahal, it made him feel calm. It was like talking to Thorin in a way, listening to that deep voice that spoke with such calm authority. The Lord of the Anvil had visited him in his dreams and meditations for as long as he could remember. Most of the time he did not speak, but just radiated a calm wisdom that encouraged Kili to find his own truth in the world. But sometimes, when Kili felt at his most vulnerable, the Lord of the Dwarves would remind him of his blessing and He would give him the strength to carry on. He never gave any advice. When Kili had screamed at Him in frustration He had only smiled and told him that _only those who listen will hear and only those who look will see_ – which was no help whatsoever. And Kili had resigned himself to the fact that he had to find his own answers.

 

When he had written the second report to Thorin he had felt much calmer. Having been separated from his lover for over two moon cycles by that point had given him the desired space he needed to separate his heart from his head for a while. Although by that time his frustration with Lord Suthri and his Council had started to really grain on him, he had also learnt to stand on his own two feet, have an opinion without Thorin, Fili and Dis all trying to advise him of theirs, and find his way in the world. It was pretty clear to him that he was no statesman. He had neither the patience nor the tact to deal with the intricacies of politics. But that was fine – that was always Fili’s destiny and not his. However, he was growing in confidence over his skills as a strategic leader, seeing flaws and weaknesses in the way things were run in particular when it came to weapons and defensive tactics.

 _Screw Suthri,_ he thinks to himself. _If he want to be overrun by an orc pack or a dragon because he is to stubborn to listen to me just because I am younger then fool be him._

He is tapping the feathered pencil against the ink pot, thinking about how to tell Thorin he will not be home for Summer Fest as promised. It is not that he does not want to go home. He misses Fili badly. And of course he misses Thorin, although the overwhelming heartache he had felt before had now been replaced with a more resigned sadness. But from the moment he had travelled through the elvish harbour towns he had been drawn to it like a magnet. He needs to go back there. He is not even sure why, but it is like the place is calling to him. He knows Thorin will be upset with him and the though both upsets and pleases him. On the one hand he does not want to do anything that Thorin would disapprove of. On the other it is like an act of defiance that he is an adult and can make his own decisions now without Thorin deciding everything for him – although of course he is still answerable to him as his King, but for the moment he chooses to ignore that fact.

When he puts his quill down again he is not entirely happy with his letter, but it will have to do. He could write the entire letter in silver on gold leaf and it would not make Thorin any happier about the message he is giving him.

He is just about to seal the scrolls when he has a thought. He cannot tell Thorin anything other than the facts. Of course he cannot put any words of love into the report. But there is something that he knows will give Thorin a message that he still loves him, that despite everything he is still his soulmate – even if they are to spend their blessing apart. And he smiles as he carefully rolls the token inside the parchment before he seals the wax with the royal seal.

***

Kili is relieved when they set off on their journey North.  He had said his polite farewells to Lord Suthri with the excuse that matters North required his urgent attention. No matter his dislike of the haughty lord, Thorin would not be pleased if he started a civil war with the Southern dwarves. Besides, other than Suthri’s Court, the others had been kind enough to him and his time here had not been that bad.

Vrar still looks unhappy with him, but Skirvir, whom he has spent a lot of time with over the past few months seems as excited as he is to leave the Southern Mountains and spend some time with the elves. His guard is only a few years older than Kili is, but he is a bear of a dwarf, even taller than Thorin and almost as broad as Dwalin. And like his uncle’s guard the buck had an intimidating look but a kind heart. And Kili feels safe with the strong buck as his shield.

When the company arrives in Thafar'fundsilfînh and arrange for an overnight stop, Vrar makes a final attempt to make Kili see sense, trying to convince him to stay with the company and return to Northern Mountains. But Kili refuses him kindly, but firmly. “I have made my decision,” he smiles as he orders a round for the company. “Tomorrow, the others will travel on and we will seek audience with Highlord Nowë to ask for his  blessing to stay in Thaforkûn.”

“And if he does not grant his blessing?” Vrar asks nervously.

But Kili laughs and answers in Khuzdul, “Then I will have to agree with Thorin that the elves are arrogant bastards.”

Vrar flushes at the insult, although he knows there is no chance that the elves in the tavern will understand their secret language. “Very well, _Ezbaduh_ ,” he sighs and takes his drink to the table where the others are seated.

Kili leans against the bar and smiles as his company initiate an old dwarvish song.

“Do you think Nowë will let us stay?” Skirvir asks him, clinking his goblet against Kili’s.

The prince shrugs. “I cannot see why not.”

“And what exactly do you intend to do here?”

“I don’t know,” Kili smiles honestly. “The same as I was supposed to do in the Southern Mountains. Learn. Learn about the elves and their customs.” He smiles at his guard and friend. “Did you know that Nowë is said to be one of the oldest living beings in Middle Earth? He ruled the Teleri all the way back in the First Age. Did you know he was there with Gil-Galad during the battle with Sauron? Can you even imagine someone that old?!”

Skirvir shakes his head. “How do you even know this? I cannot imagine Balin you teaching elvish lore?”

Kili laughs. “No he did not. My friend Ori taught me.”

“The scribe who works in the Temple Library?”

“That’s the one! He spends all of his days with his nose in books. And he has taught me quite a few things about the other races in Middle Earth. Of course they are all from dwarvish sources.” He does not need to add that that will mean they are heavily influenced by the prejudice that their race hold towards other inhabitants of Middle Earth. Instead he adds with a smile, “So it will be interesting to learn these things first-hand, don’t you think?”

Skirvir smiles and shrugs. He has little interest in learning about the elvish culture or lore as his prince seems to have. However, he is most intrigued by the elvish weapons; their long curved swords and their powerful bows. Whatever Kili’s reasons are for wishing to stay here – and he has an inkling it has as much to do with his curiosity as his stubbornness – he is sure he will get something out of this visit too.

Besides, it is a great opportunity to spend a bit more time together with the handsome prince. Although Kili seems to have been oblivious so far to his subtle hints, he has hopes that with the rest of the company gone, Kili might start to notice him more.  


	8. Possessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 05/07 edited Dwalin/Fili section as it was not happy with it. Hope you enjoy the changes x

By the time they reached Thorin’s chambers, the King had started to come round. Now he is staring bewildered at his sister, his best friend and his physician all gathered around his bedstead as if he is on his deathbed.

“What ... what is going on?” he utters in a whisper.  “Dis?”

“It is alright, _amagurith_ ,” Dis smiles reassuringly as she takes her brother’s hand.

“Clearly it is not,” Thorin sighs in frustration that yet again he finds himself in an embarrassing position without having any recollection how he ended up here. “Why am I in bed? Why are you all here?”

“You became unwell. At the council meeting. You were angry with …”

“Gorm,” Thorin finishes her sentence with a snap. Some of what had happened returns to his mind now and his features cloud over like a thunderstorm as that slightly unfocused gaze returns to his eyes.

“Sssh, brother, you need to rest,” Dis tries as she can see the anxiety return, but it is futile.

“How dare he!” Thorin growls, trying to wrestle himself upright. “How dare he suggest that I bed his sister!”

“I don’t believe he actually suggested that, _amagurith_ ,” Dis rubs the back of his hand as she throws Dwalin a furtive glance. They both know as much as Thorin does that that is probably what the priest had implied with his so-called helpful advice, but he had never said it. “You said that.”

“I will never betray him!” Thorin cries out suddenly.

“Thorin, you should not ….” “Thorin, please …” both Dwalin and Dis try to stop him simultaneously as they throw each other a panicked look.

“I have had to send him away! I have had to deny my love for him. But I will never break my oath to Kili, my One! I will never lie with another for as long as Mahal keeps me alive!”

Oin might be slowly getting deafer as the years pass by, but he has not missed Thorin’s loud venting of his anger and he is staring wide-eyed at his King. Dis gets to her feet and walks over to her brother’s healer, grabbing him by the arm and guiding him to a corner of the room, whilst Dwalin tries to calm his friend down.

“Listen,” she says quietly to the dumbstruck buck with as much authority as she can muster, “my brother is not well. He speaks without thinking and it is putting himself and my son in danger. I must remind you of your duty as his personal physician. That whatever he says, whatever you hear, must never leave this room. Swear it to me.” She has the older dwarf in a strong grip by both his shoulders, staring intensely at him. “Swear it, Oin!”

“I … I swear …”

Dis nods to him and is about to turn back to her brother, but Oin stops her. “ _Azbaduh_ ,” he begins carefully. “Does … Did … What Thorin said …”

Dis looks at him, considering whether it is better to lie or risk telling the truth. But perhaps if he knows the full story, he can help her brother, help whatever ails him. “You must never tell another soul,” she urges him again.

“I swear, _Azbaduh,_ ” Oin says again, more confidently this time.

Dis takes a deep breath. “My son is the King’s promised One. _Sanumùradûnhu_.”

Oin does not say anything, just stares incredulously at her.

“Please look after my brother,” she says quietly in the end as the throws her pale exhausted brother a worried look.

Slowly Oin nods. “I will, Dis,” he promises.

At that he returns to his King’s side whilst Dis leaves the room to find Balin and Gorm to try and mitigate some of the damage her brother has caused between the royal House of Durin and Mahal’s Highpriest.

***

She smirks as she takes in the picture of Gorm, lying on the divan in one of the guest rooms that one of her maiden’s had guided her to. He looks like he has been attacked by a pack of wargs, his face white as a sheet, his long beard dishevelled as if he’s been dragged backwards through the woods, his eyes closed and his hands shaking. Svior, Suthri’s representative, is pampering him with offerings of food and drink, which he whimperingly waves away.

Dis looks at Balin who rolls his eyes before he invites the princess to take a seat on the other side of the room where Balin takes place next to her.

“Gorm,” she begins, now being the highest ranking here. “We need to talk about what happened at the Council meeting.”

“He attacked me!” Gorm whines dramatically. “He is mad! _Khathághim!”_

Dis exchanges a worried look with Balin. Gorm has every right to accuse Thorin of such a serious crime. But on her way here an idea had come to her which she hopes may protect her brother. “You are right, Gorm,” she says calmly. “My brother is under a lot of stress at the moment and he needs to rest. I apologise unreservedly for any offence caused, but as you say yourself Thorin is not in his right mind at the moment.”

Gorm narrows his eyes and manages to drag himself upright. “What are you implying?”

“That he cannot be held responsible for his actions today,” Balin confirms, understanding where Dis is heading.

Svior looks at her like he is desperate to say something, but she knows the Southern dwarves place a lot of importance on rank and she keeps him quiet with a stern look.

They can hear Gorm grind his teeth in frustration as his brain is churning on how to respond to that. “You … you are going to let him get away with what he did to me?”

Dis sighs and she tries to throw the priests her most compassionate look. “I am sure he will apologise to you when he is better. But no real harm has come to you so let us not blow this up. You were wrong to bring such a delicate matter up in the Council meeting. You should have raised the proposal in private with him. You of course may make recommendations where Mahal asks this of you. But never forget that he is still your King.”

“He is possessed!” Gorm hisses. He is sat up straight now, suddenly the physical effects of Thorin’s _attack_ overcome and replaced by anger over the injustice. “There is an evil inside him. The way he attacked me and then how he was thrashing about on the floor!” He jumps to his feet now. “He should not be allowed to be King! He will doom us all!”

Balin and Dis exchange a glance. This is getting very out of hand.

Baling slowly gets up. “That is a serious accusation, Gorm. Are you saying you are challenging Thorin’s ability to rule?” Gorm may be the Highpriest which in a lot of cases places him above their common law. But even Gorm is not exempt from their sedition laws. And these claims, these insults may be considered a direct act of treason, which carries the death penalty.

Gorm appears to have realised his mistake and he has gone deathly pale.

“Are you making this an official statement?” Balin narrows his eyes at the Highpriest. “Or should we assume that this conversation never took place. Like what happened in the Council meeting today never took place?”

This time when Svior makes attempt to stand up for the Highpriest, Gorm is the one to silence him with a simple gesture of his hand. “Perhaps we all forgot the appropriate conduct for a moment,” he swallows thickly. “As you say emotions have run high today.”

“Indeed,” Balin nods solemnly. “I think it were best if we all forgot those words which were spoken in anger today.”

“Very well,” Gorm nods through gritted teeth at which he pushes past Balin and storms out of the room, followed on his heels by his loyal supporter from the Southern faction, who are all as devoted to their religious customs as they are to all their other strict customs and who hold the priests in a very high regard indeed.

Once the door has fallen shut behind them, both Balin and Dis take a deep breath.

“Thank you,” Dis says softly.

Balin waves a hand. “We have some serious problems on our hands, Dis. This tension between the House of Durin and The Temple … We may have averted this escalating today, but there is something brewing.”

Dis nods. “There is.” She consider he brother’s chief advisor for a moment. “How does the buck community perceive his rule? Are they behind him?”

“Yes. The dams?”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise. As is Dain.”

“Which leaves Suthri …” Balin says what they are both thinking.

“What have Kili’s reports said? Anything that causes you concern?”

Balin shakes his head. “He has been trained well enough in political savviness not to put to paper anything that could cause upset should it fall in the wrong hands. His reports have been factual and objective.” He takes a deep breath and takes his seat next to Dis again. “Tell me honestly, Dis, do you believe Kili is _sanumùradûnhu_?”

“Yes,” she says quietly but confidently. “When I first learnt about their relationship I was furious with Thorin. But having spoken at length with the both of them … Neither would risk what Thorin has achieved her if they were not driven to it by a stronger force. My brother is stubborn but he is not stupid. And he is absolutely devoted to Kili.”

Balin sighs deeply. Perhaps he had been hasty to judge his old friend. He had not believed him, had thought he was simply lusting over that which he could not have. Then the implications of the alternative were far reaching. Why would Mahal bless Thorin with something that contravened their own laws? Were there laws flawed? Who was right and who was wrong?

And there is Thorin’s current state of mind. What had happened with Gorm was one thing – the dwarf pushed everyone’s buttons and Thorin had a shirt fuse at the best of times so the fact that their relationship was volatile was hardly surprising. But what he had witnessed thereafter had drained the blood from his face. Thorin seemed to be no longer in control of his own body. Like another force had crept into his limbs to move them at their will. “What … what happened earlier?” he asks, his voice shaking slightly. “When he fell to the floor? Do you … do you think he is going mad?” It sounds only marginally less insulting than _is he possessed_.

“I don’t know,” Dis sighs, lowering her gaze to her hands. “I do worry … I have seen the madness take hold of my grandfather and then my father.” She looks up at her childhood friend. The thought of it is frightening her more than anything. A curse that does not seem to spare any generation of her line and therefore may also take hold of herself and her children one day. “Is there any way they could be together? Is there any way we could change the law?” she decides to change the subject.

“I do not think so,” Balin says. “Our laws date back to Father Durin. It is not for us to change them, only to interpret them.” His heart breaks at the sight of Dis anguished face and he gently takes her hand. “Do not get your hopes up, but I will look into it, Dis. See if there is anything at all that we could do.”

“Thank you,” she smiles softly as she rests her head on his shoulder, letting him sooth away some of her worries.

***

When Dwalin arrives at his chambers he finds Fili hovering in front of the door. “Good evening, little prince,” he smiles happily at the sight of his suitor. “Ye can go inside, ye don’t need to hang around in the halls waiting for me.”

“I did not want to assume …” Fili says softly as he follows him inside. He feels that now familiar and wonderful flutter of excitement as he watches Dwalin take off his overcoat. He is not even sure why he is here again tonight. They had more or less agreed not to do anything until Kili came back. But he just wants to be around the older dwarf, be close to him.

“Have ye eaten yet?” the big guard calls over his shoulder.

“No, not yet,” Fili shakes his head at which Dwalin promptly pulls the cord for his attendants and orders a meal for two to be brought to his rooms.

When Dwalin turns around Fili is right behind him, making him jump.

“I missed you,” Fili whispers and then crashes his lips against Dwalin’s. He has to stand on tiptoes to snog his lover and wraps his arms tight around his neck.  The young prince closes his eyes as Dwalin pulls him into his strong arms and answers his kiss with passion and heat.

Other than the coarse hair of his bushy moustache prickling his lip, the kiss is surprisingly soft and Fili swims in the warmth of it, the tender passion. When they reluctantly pull apart, knowing that at any moment their dinner will arrive, Dwalin rubs his coarse thumb over Fili’s soft lips and smiles. “I missed ya too, little prince. But I think the forge was a better choice than the council today though.”

Fili raises an eyebrow. “Why? What happened at the meeting?”

Dwalin sighs and offers his lover some pipe tobacco as they sit down in front of the fireplace. “Your uncle and Gorm had a rather explosive argument.”

“About what?” Fili asks, concerned.

Dwalin looks at the bright blue eyes of his blond prince, wondering how much to protect him and how much to say. “Gorm suggested Thorin would take a dam to carry his heir,” he says softly. A mixture of emotions flashes briefly across Fili’s face and Dwalin grabs his hand and presses a kiss on it. “Don’t worry, Thorin was quite clear that y’re his heir and he has no such intentions. And he will not break his oath to yer brother, although of course he could not tell Gorm that.”

Fili stares into the fireplace. He knows Thorin was not much of a fan of the old highpriest, but he always had had a civil relationship with him. The fact that they now seemed to be at lockerheads concerned him greatly.

Dwalin looks at the young prince and the frown painted across his brow pains him. He knows of course that Fili was destined to follow in Thorin’s footsteps and the heir had been blessed with a carefree childhood that he and Thorin had not known. But nonetheless he wishes he could take his burdens away. And he decides not to add to Fili’s worries by revealing more of Thorin’s ailing health. Not until he knows what is wrong with his friend.

Fili had not realised quite how hungry he was until dinner is brought to them and his stomach rumbles loudly. They both tuck into the roasted meat and the jugs of ale, occasionally throwing each other a promising smile. And the earlier thoughts of concern are slowly replaced by thoughts of want and desire.

When they have finished and Dwalin’s attendants have cleared away the trays, Fili is quick to get to his feet and bolt the door behind them. Dwalin raises a surprised eyebrow at his lover, an invitation to explain his intentions. But Fili just gives him a cheeky smile, before he walks back and lowers himself to his knees in front of Dwalin, whose eyes grow wide.

Fili slowly runs his hands up the inside of the warriors thighs, teasing, testing his reaction. “Is that alright?” he asks huskily.

“Little prince,” Dwalin whispers thickly, “ye should not kneel for me.”

“I want to,” Fili retorts quickly. And he begins to follow his hand with his mouth, placing gentle kisses along Dwalin’s thighs, who spreads himself a little wider as his excitement grows. He snuggles himself closer between those strong thighs and his kisses land on the fabric covering the warrior’s arousal.

Dwalin throws his head back as his breathing deepens and his heart rate accelerates. He draws in a long slow breath as he digs his large hands behind the braids in Fili’s hair, relishing the soft curly flows of blond hair between his fingers.

Fili can smell the heat pulsing from Dwalin’s intimacy as he snuggles his face into the folds of his crotch. His lover is as hard as he is and he feels a different sort of hunger inside him now. He briefly glances up at his lover’s face but Dwalin’s eyes are closed and his head lent back as he gives in to the increasing pleasure. Slowly Fili runs his fingers over the bulge in Dwalin’s trousers, drawing a soft hiss from his lover’s lips. His imagination is running wild was what lies hidden under the fabric for him and he bends himself down and wraps his lips around the hardness still covered by the cloth, sucking through the fabric leaving a wet mark on Dwalin’s trousers.

Fili tugs at the laces of Dwalin’s breeches with his teeth and begins to peel away what is preventing him access to his lover’s arousal. “Do … do you want me to?” he suddenly hesitates. He has never had a much older lover like Dwalin before, someone with so much more experience than himself. And he is beginning to lose his nerve the more he thinks about it. What if Dwalin does not like it? What is he is no good? What if others have only ever been polite to him because he is the crown prince but in reality he is useless when it comes to bedsports?

But Dwalin raised his head up and looks at him with a heated blush in his face as he drags his hands through his hair and gently tugs at the braids behind his ears. “I do,” he moans softly, burrowing his bright eyes into Fili’s. “I do if you do.”

The blond prince does not need any more encouragement as he pulls open Dwalin’s breeches and reaches inside. He shivers as his fingertips touch the heated skin of his lover’s thick erection, gently freeing the big warrior from his confinement. The shaft is heavy and hot as he wraps his hand around it, being rewarded with a soft groan. He looks up to Dwalin who is breathing heavy with anticipation and maintains eye contact as he slowly lowers his lips over the soft moist tip of his lover’s cock.

“Oooh my little prince,” Dwalin groans as he is taken into the heat of Fili’s mouth. “That … that feels so good.”

Fili grins around his shaft and slowly takes him in deeper, running his tongue around the base of his crown and exploring his length with playful licks. Dwalin tastes slightly salty on his tongue, more masculine than some of his other lovers. And it is making him strain almost painfully against inside his breeches as the taste, the smell and the feel of the one he has wanted for so long as making him rock hard.

Dwalin sinks himself lower into the chair, bucking himself up a little and pushing his breeches down further until they are halfway down his thighs, allowing his prince access to his stones, which he readily takes into the palm of his hand, rolling them around whilst he continues to bob his head up and down his shaft. The beads of Fili’s moustache playfully slap against his sack each time his mouth moves down, which makes for a delicious additional tease. It has been a long while since anyone last gave him head and Fili certainly is good with his mouth as he sucks firmly at him. Not too rough, but not too gentle. Just the right amount of pressure in all the right places. And he feels himself come undone more rapidly than he would like to.

“Fee,” he breathes heavily as the pressure building inside his testicles is announcing his imminent release. “Gonna spill,” he warns.

The blond prince simply winks at him from his knelt position and increases the speed of his mouth. Dwalin is a little hesitant. Fili is his higher in rank and he should be giving him pleasure not the other way around. But the young prince is clearly intent on sucking the cum right out of him and other than rip the prince’s mouth away from his cock there is not much he can do about it now. He lets his head drop back and his eyes close as he gives in to the pleasure. It is only seconds before Fili takes him over the edge and he spends himself down his suitor’s throat with a deep groan. Fili continues to tease him until he has to tug at his hair as he is becoming too sensitive to take any more of his delicious tongue running along his slit lapping up the last drops of cum. And he shudders as the young dwarf drops him from his mouth.

“Fili, y’amazing little thing,” he breathes heavily.

 “Was that nice?” Fili smiles up at him, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, before he rests head on Dwalin’s thighs.

“Wonderful,” the older dwarf sighs, motioning the young prince to get up and climb into his lap. He greedily seeks his mouth, tasting himself on those hot lips that have given him such pleasure as he dips his tongue into the warmth of Fili’s mouth, licking up the remnants of his own salty seed on his lover’s tongue.  His hand seeks the bulge in Fili’s breeches, grabbing at him firmly. “It should be me pleasuring you,” he admits his failure in his duty with embarrassment.

Fili snuggles himself into the hollow of his neck. “You did bring me pleasure. I enjoyed doing that.”

“Good,” Dwalin grins, thinking how lucky he is. “Still, it is my duty to give you relief. And as yet that duty remains unfulfilled.” He gently squeezes the young prince through his breeches.  He grins widely and scoops his love into his arms as he gets to his feet, making Fili squeal in delight as he is carried towards the bedstead and thrown unceremoniously onto the furs as Dwalin trips over his breeches.

The older dwarf yanks his bottom clothes down completely and in the same motion pulls off his tunic, leaving him standing naked at the foot of the bed.

Fili stares at him with open mouth, delighting in the sight of Dwalin’s strong muscles and beautiful tattoos that signify his bloodline and his achievements on the battlefield. Everything about the strong buck excites him. “You are so gorgeous,” he utters.

Dwalin raises an eyebrow. That is not something he is called too often by his lovers. Strong, yes. A brute by some. Sexy perhaps. But gorgeous?

He slowly crawls on top of the princeling and roughly pulls Fili’s tunic over his head, revealing his muscular torso. Fili giggles as Dwalin runs his tongue along his chest, the thick braid of his beard tickling him like a brush. “You sexy dwarfling,” he bites softly at his nipples making Fili wriggle with pleasure. “You are wearing too many clothes still, young Fili.”

“Then take them off!” Fili orders with a smile.

“As you demand, _Ezbaduh_ ,” Dwalin smirks and he yanks hard at the cord that holds up Fili’s breeches and within moments the garment is in a pile on the floor and the blond prince lies exposed before him on his bed.

“Beautiful,” he sucks in his breath. “What a delicious dwarf you are, prince Fili. You bring me such honour.”

Fili blushes as Dwalin runs his large hand up his sack and along his length.

“What would ya like me to do?” Dwalin asks softly as he rolls onto his side and wraps Fili in his arms, kissing his shoulders and running his rough hands down his back, over his buttocks and this thighs until they move back to the front and find his hardness again.

“Just … just pull me off,” Fili blushes. He has had many dreams of those big strong hands wrapped around his cock. Hands that can so easily crush a man’s throat that now hold his most sensitive part so carefully.

Dwalin pulls him even closer, taking his mouth into a deep passionate kiss as he begins to stroke him in sure movement. “Tell me what ya like,” he whispers into his mouth.

“A little harder,” Fili groans as he bucks himself up into the palm of Dwalin’s hand. “Aaah yes, good. Slow but hard.”

“You delightful little dwarf,” Dwalin breathes heavily, feeling himself twitch again as he works his hand around Fili’s cock, making him leak into his hand as he rubs the viscous liquid over his sensitive tip. Their kiss becomes more hungry, sucking and biting hard at each other, their tongues darting in and out of each other’s mouth as Fili starts to thrust up into his hand with more urgency. “Are you close, little prince?” Dwalin whispers into his lover’s mouth.

“Yes, so close,” Fili groans with a shudder.

“Then come for me, prince Fili,” he pants as he jerks even firmer at the blond’s sleek cock.

Fili groans and wriggles wonderfully against him as he spends himself into his fist, his hot pearly seed coating his thighs and belly. The deep blush that flushes up his chest and into his neck is a wonderfully arousing sight and Dwalin thinks he can easily get addicted to bringing out that blush over and over again.

“Th... thank you,” Fili shivers when his orgasm subsides.

“Y’re most welcome, my sweet prince,” Dwalin smiles, pulling his lover closer, not caring that his seed is soiling the both of them. “Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks eventually when their heart rates are beginning to slow down again.

“If I may,” Fili nods, snuggling closer into Dwalin’s strong embrace.

“Always, my prince,” Dwalin kisses his forehead and wraps his leg over Fili’s in a protective and possessive statement.

***

“Are you alright, _Ardsagart_?” Svior asks for the hundredth time. “Is there anything else I can get you?” Novices are running in and out of the highpriests chambers, tending to him with meats and ale and fragranced water to bathe his feet in.

“It was a shock,” Gorm says again. “But by Mahal’s strength I will be fine.”

Svior nods, concern painted across his face. “I cannot believe they will let him get away with what he did to you, _Ardsagart_. He should be punished.”

Gorm looks at the short long-bearded dwarf and he beckons him to come closer. “He is possessed,” he says again. “Did you see how his eyes flared when he attacked me? Did you see the crazed look he gave me, like some rabid wolf? Did see you him thrash about?”

Svior nods again, his eyes wide with fear for what he had witnessed.

“They are all under his spell,” Gorm lowers his voice conspiringly. “We are in grave danger. You must warn your Lord immediately. Tell him that the King has fallen to the curse of the bloodline of Durin.” He grabs the other hard by his forearm, forcing him closer. “But we must be careful. These are dark forces at work. We must find a way to end his reign of madness before we are all doomed, but we must tread carefully or we will all lose our heads.”

“I will, Ardsagartuh _,_ ” Svior swears to his religious leader. “By Mahal’s hammer please guide us back onto a path of righteousness so that our eternal souls may be saved.” And he scuttles out of the room to prepare for his return to Suthri’s court.

And Gorm stares after him with a grin of satisfaction across his face. _You will not get away with this Thorin Oakenshield. You will pay for your disrespect. No-one challenges the Highpriest of Mahal the Maker unpunished. This I promise you by His beard._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amagurith = bear cub  
> Ardsagart = Highpriest (title)


	9. Gifted

The palace of Lord Nowë is simple yet it takes Kili’s breath away. Elegant pillars rise up endlessly towards a ceiling that could as easily be the sky itself so radiant. The marble floor changes from white to blue at every step taken, giving it the look and feel of waves rolling underneath his feet. Even the guards who line the entire hallway that leads towards the reception hall seem to effortlessly blend in with their surroundings and they could be marble statues if not for the occasional blinking of their deep brown eyes.

Vrar and Skirvir follow a few steps behind him, his short-statured advisor looking distinctly uncomfortable and the broad shouldered guard looking as awestruck as Kili is.

“Prince Kili of the House of Durin,” the grand marshal announces their arrival to the elf lord.

Kili walks up to dais and moves his hand in the open gesture from his heart in the elvish greeting.

The ancient elf lord does not stir accept for a gentle smile that plays across his lips.

Kili is momentarily speechless as he looks up into the grey eyes that seem to reflect the history of the world in them. Despite his age Nowë’s skin is as flawless as that of any other elfling in the room. Only the pure white of his hair and the ancient wisdom in his eyes allow a glimpse of his true age. But what really strikes Kili is the long fine beard. Elves are not known to grow beards – something that clearly only comes with very old age indeed to their race – and he thinks it looks odd yet befitting of the ancient prince-lord.

“ _Le suilon, Hîr Círdan_ ,” Kili speaks the well-practised phrase in greeting. “My thanks for allowing me to seek audience with you.”

“ _Mae l'ovannen, Cunn Kili._ Welcome to Mithlond. What brings the youngest prince of Durin to my court?”

“ _Hîr Círdan_ , I seek but permission for me and my company to stay a while in your home. I would like to learn more about your customs and your history.”

The elf lord raises an eyebrow. _“Hîr fangon_ , you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. It has been some years since one from the Royal House of Durin stayed amongst us. You will always be welcome here, _Peredhel_.”

The statement throws Kili and he looks over his shoulder for an explanation of the word that he does not recognise. But he had sent his translator back to Thorin’s Halls as he did not want to rely on someone else’s words and explanations.  Not now he knows that he can converse with the elves in the common tongue. Vrar shrugs apologetically, it is not a word he is familiar with either.

“My thanks, my _Hîr Círdan_. Excuse my impudence, but by-your-leave I request permission that I may also access your library. A friend in Ered Luin has told me much about the treasures that you hold there and I would be most grateful if I were granted access to some of those.”

At that Lord Nowë smiles brightly, showing a row of brilliant white teeth. “You are indeed remarkable, child of Aulë. You have my permission to use the library as much as you wish. On one condition. That you will join me for dinner tonight in my quarters. We have matters to discuss. Matters of great importance.”

Kili blinks hard. _What matters?_ he wants to ask, but the look in the elf’s grey eyes tells him he is to be patience until he has private audience with the elflord.

“ _Hîr Círdan_ , I would be most honoured,” Kili nods his head.

***

The rooms they are escorted to are so brilliantly white that Kili has to shield his eyes against the sun bouncing off the walls. “Please ring the cord if there is anything you need, _Cunn Kili,”_ the elvish servant bows.

Once the door has fallen closed and he is alone he falls down onto the soft bed. He feels rather pleased with himself for his decision to come here. Lord Nowë has been remarkably friendly and welcoming and he has been granted his wish to access to the old library. For the first time since his coming of age he feels strangely at peace. Almost at home. If only Fili and Thorin were here things would just be perfect.

As he snoozes on top of the soft downs the thinks back to his brief but rather odd conversation with the elvish Lord. He wonders who of the House of Durin had stayed with Lord Nowë before. He could have just referred to Thorin passing through the town of course; he travelled back and forth between the Northern and Southern faction at least twice a year. But the last time he and Fili had come here had been less than a year ago and that did not seem to fit the lord’s phrasing.

And what could the elflord possible wish to discuss with him that was of _great importance_. He had not even known Kili was coming here until the day before yesterday. Or had he? He almost seemed to have been expecting him.

As all these questions are churning through his head he feels restless again and he jumps to his feet and grabs his bow and quiver. Just as he is about to leave there is a firm knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“Skirvir!”

He opens the door and looks into the bright smile of his guard. “That is good timing,” Kili smiles back. “Will you join me to the archery range?”

***

They are thrown some funny looks when the two dwarves walk onto the practice range. It is noon and the sun is beaming down onto the pitch, which at least means it is relatively quiet as mot have been sensible enough to stay out of the blistering heat of the high sun. However as Kili draws his bow and aims at his target, a crowd is quickly beginning to assemble.

He hits the target with ease, quickly followed by a further two sharp shot. By the fourth one of the elves steps forward out of the swollen crowd. “Your aim is precise, master dwarf,” he says in a heavily accented common tongue. “Would you like to try an elvish bow?”

Kili eyes up the longer, curvier bow held out to him. He quickly glances at Skirvir who smiles in approval. “Thank you,” Kili nods as he takes the unfamiliar weapon. Despite being longer it feels much lighter in his hand than his own bow.

His first shot misses the target by a couple of inches as he gets used to the pull and the flexibility of the wood. His second hits the target on the edge. And by his third attempt he hits the centre ring dead on, to a joyous applause by his spectators.

He turns to the elf who had handed him the bow. “It is a beautiful weapon,” he smiles, holding it out.

“Please, master dwarf, it is a gift.”

Kili frowns, not having expected that. “I could not possibly …”

“My name is Cúfaron,” he offers Kili the open elvish greeting, but refusing to take the bow back. “It means bow-hunter.”

“I am Kili,” Kili smiles.

“I know,” the dark-haired elf smiles.

Kili can feel Skirvir stir next to him but Kili motions to him to let the elf speak and be patient.

“Howcome?” Kili enquires. “I only came through Mithlond once before, some months ago, and we did not meet then.”

“Everyone here knows who you are, prince Kili of Durin. You are _Caehên_. The Earth Child.”

Kili looks at Skirvir who shrugs his shoulders incomprehensibly. “I see. Well, erhm … thank you. _Le f.. fael_?”

Cúfaron nods with a smile and bows his head, at which he turns to the others and they all leave the archery range.

“That was weird,” Kili says in Khuzdul to Skirvir. “Nice, but weird.”

“That’s elves for you I guess. May I?” Skirvir asks reaching for the bow.

“Yes of course,” Kili hands the gifted weapon to his guard. “It is much lighter than our bows. But once you get used to the bending of the wood it is little different to our own.”

Skirvir is not a natural archer, however, he can shoot the bow as good as any other guardsman. However, he seems to struggle with the elvish weapon more than Kili. “It is too light,” he growls in the end as he cannot get his aim right. “Give me an axe any day and we’ll see who is the better warrior here.”

Kili laughs. “It is a gift, not an invitation to war. Now let’s go back before the sun burns us to ashes.”

***

All three of them are dressed in their finest clothes, which for Kili means his royal blue tunic with the silver embroidery of his heraldry and for the others means their finely woven earth coloured tunics as opposed to the coarser material that they have worn during travels.

As they arrive at Lord Nowë’s private chambers one of the guards steps out and holds up his hand. “ _Cunn_ Kili _¸_ you are invited to join _Hîr Círdan_ for dinner.” He whistles a funny sounding call at which two servants appear. “His attendants will look after your men.”

“No,” Skirvir immediately argues. “Where Kili goes, I go. I am his guard.”

The elf looks down at the burly dwarf, but does not show any emotion.  “We are the guards of _Hîr Círdan_. _Cunn_ Kili will be safe.”

“I do not care, elf, it is my duty to protect my prince and I …”

Kili places a hand on his chest. “It is alright, Skirvir. I will be fine. Now go and have dinner.”

Skirvir opens his mouth to argue but Kili silences him with a quick hand movement. _You are dismissed._ _Both of you._

He knows he will get it in the neck later. Either one or both of them are bound to report this back to Thorin who no doubt is already fuming over his decision to come here in the first place. But the elves have been more than welcome, have honoured him with a precious gift. And to be personally invited to dine with the Highlord is an honour not a threat.

The guards open the tall doors for him to allow him entry. He gawks  as he takes in the circular room, white and with high ceilings as all the others he has seen so far, but sparkling with tiny blue crystals that catch the moonlight and radiate it across the room. As he looks out of the window he can see the sea glimmer in the light of the moon and he can faintly hear the waves crashing against the rocks. He has never seen the sea before. From the ground you cannot see out any further than the estuary itself. But from up here …

“It is beautiful, is it not?” Lord Nowë smiles as he appears from one of the side rooms. “I have spent many years travelling across Ulmo’s Realm and my heart will always rest on the bottom of the ocean.”

He invites Kili to take a seat at the table and to help himself to bread and smoked fish and fresh fruit.

“So, prince Kili of Durin,” the ancient elf smiles warmly, “what made you decide to stay in Mithlond when the rest of your company returned to Thorin’s Halls in Ered Luin?”

“I am not sure. I … I was intrigued when we first travelled through your harbours. The architecture is so different to ours – beautiful! And I had heard much about yourself, Lord _Círdan_ . Thorin originally sent me to Lord Suthri to learn about their customs. And I have done that but there is nothing more I can learn there. Now I would like to learn more about your people.”

“There is always more to learn, Kili. I have lived on Arda for many centuries and never once have I thought I learnt everything there is to learn.”

Kili lowers his head, feeling reprimanded by the ancient elf.

“But it pleases me that you have returned to learn about your heritage.”

Kili drops a grape onto the floor in shock. “How do you know about that?” _How can this elf know about the scrolls that he has brought with him._

“It is not a secret amongst my people, Kili.”

Kili stares at him with huge eyes. “Everyone knows? But how? They have been hidden in our vaults for centuries. Do you know what they say then?”

Nowë looks at the young dwarf with some confusion. “The vaults?” Clearly the dwarf prince is talking about something rather different than he is. He leans himself back and considers the young prince who stares back at him in confusion. “You do not know, _Caehên_?”

“Know what?” Kili knows he is not being particularly polite and if Balin or Thorin were here they would have been sure to reprimand him for it. But he is really very confused now.

“Your mother spent many months in Mithlond,” Nowë smiles kindly at him. “When Lord Suthri moved to the Southern Ered Luin and she came to negotiate the free passage through my principality.”

“My … mother? Dis?”

Nowë nods and gives Kili some time to digest that bit of information.

“It was many years ago. I guess …” he looks closely at Kili, “maybe forty or so years ago?”

“You … you met my mother?”

“And you father.”

Kili’s mouth drops open. “My … my father?!”

Nowë nods kindly. “I knew your father rather well in fact. What do you know about him, prince Kili?”

“He … he died before I was even born,” Kili utters. “I think he was a merchant. There was an accident, on the mountain pass. His horse slipped and they both fell down the ravine. They ... they could not find his body to lay him to rest in the tombs at Ered Luin. ”

“I see.”

“You knew my father?”

“I did.”

“Did he spend a lot of time here in Mithlond? What was he like?”

“Has your mum not told you?”

“Not much more than what I told you,” Kili says quietly. “We don’t get to spend any time with our father until we come of age. When they are supposed to teach us a skill, a trade. Because my da died before I was even born … There just never was that relationship. Thorin was the one to teach me how to hunt, how to forge.” Truth was he had never asked much about his dad. Had never really been that curious. Fili’s dad was still alive and yet his brother spent hardly any time with him. There never had been any reason to. Thorin had been in their lives more than any buck would have been with their own sons.

“It is not my place to tell you, prince Kili. If your mother chose not to, then neither must I speak of it.”

“I … I have never really asked her much about him.”

Lord Nowë smiles softly. “Then perhaps you should.” Suddenly the elf lord changes the subject so rapidly that Kili feels dizzy for a moment. “I understand you speak to Aulë.”

Kili raises his eyebrow, not understanding the turn of the conversation. “Of course I do. He is our Maker.”

“Indeed he is. But he speaks to you directly, _Caehên_.”

Kili looks back in confusion. “He speaks to all of us.”

Nowë slowly shakes his head. “You are gifted, my child. You see him, you speak to him. And Yavanna. Only very few are granted such a gift.”

“No, that is not true. All the dwarves talk to him. Maybe elves cannot but …” He is silenced by the quiet confidence that radiates from his host. “It cannot be. Why? Really?” That is ridiculous. Mahal has spoken to him for as long as he can remember. Before he could properly talk back. They were never lengthy conversation. One-sided mostly when Kili talked and Mahal listened. And Yvanna he had only spoken with once. Surely all dwarves could speak with Mahal? Surely all bucks had been guided by Him during their coming of age ritual?

“It is not something that he shares with all dwarves, Kili,” Nowë seems to have read his mind. “Imagine how busy he would be if he did. But you are special. You are the one who was foretold, _Caehên_. The one who will reunite our races before the darkness returns.”

Kili sinks back in his chair. More riddles? More prophecies? “I am not gifted,” he whispers quietly. “I am not special. I was sent away because I bring shame to the House of Durin.”

“Because you are Thorin’s promised One?”

Kili almost topples over his chair. “No! Please … Please do not say that,” he stutters, trying to hold back tears. How can this creature know of his sin? How can he look straight into his soul like that?

“I will not speak of it to anyone else, Kili,” Nowë reassures him. “But I hope you will find the answers you seek in my library.” He shoves his chair back and wipes his hands on his napkin. “Now you must please excuse me, prince Kili. Feel free to eat as much as you want before you leave,” he indicates to the food in front of him. “Unfortunately I must return to my duties now. It has been a pleasure to talk with you and I hope there may be another opportunity before you return to Ered Luin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin phrases :  
> Le suilon, Hîr Círdan = I great you, Lord Nowë  
> Mae l'ovannen, Cunn Kili = Well met, prince Kili  
> Hîr fangon = master dwarf  
> Caehên = earth-child


	10. Good Morning

She lies watching her brother breathe slowly in his sleep, feels his chest moving up and down under her hand in a steady rhythm. They used to lie together like this when they were cossets. Of course back then Frerin would have been curled up against her back, his fingers wrapped around the long braid falling down her back. That was how they used to fall asleep, the three of them together, after Thorin had told them one of his wonderful stories about elves and orcs and dragons. But that was before those fairy tales had become a nightmarish reality. And before the image of her other brother had begun to fade from memory.

“What ails you, _amagurith_?” she whispers quietly. “What can I do to make it all better for you and Kili?” She sighs, never thought she would be saying those words. Thinking about her brother and son together is still something that feels uncomfortable. But on the other hand could she wish for a better suitor for either? She has thought about the situation a lot over these past few months, from the moment she had walked in on them clasped together in a kiss that was not for her eyes to see.  And in truth she can see how they complement each other, how Thorin keeps Kili in line and tempers his reckless enthusiasm when he needs to and how Kili softens her brother’s angry temperament and brings out something that she has not seen in him since Frerin’s death – a pure form of happiness that rubs the years off his face. And she knows they love each other, she has no question about that.

“Dis?” Thorin asks softly.

She smiles up at her brother. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Thorin rubs his eyes, feeling a little confused. He has not woken up next to his sister since they left Azsâlul'abad. “Why are you here?” he asks a little concerned, worried that there is another gap in his memory.

Dis grabs his hand and squeezes it softly. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Thorin takes a deep breath and brings his sister into an embrace. “Thanks, _gálbhanith_. I am alright. Oin gave me this sleeping draught and it knocked me out good. How long did I sleep for?”

“You slept through the night.” She looks at her brother carefully. “Do you remember that you fell? In the council meeting yesterday? You … you were shaking.”

Thorin moves so that he can look his sister in the eyes. “I … I don’t remember. Shaking?”

“Yes.” Suddenly she grabs her brother firmly, pressing her face into his tunic. “Oh Thorin, I worry so about you. What is happening to you?”

“I don’t know. I worry … I could feel it come over me this time. Like I was watching myself slip into this void. Like something takes over …” He grabs Dis’ face between his hands, bringing hers close to his. “I am not mad, Dis!” They both know it is a plea more than a statement.

“I know you’re not,” his sister tries to reassure the both of them. “You are just tired. And you miss him.”

Thorin release his grip and turns away as the sadness washes over him. “I do…” he whispers.

“He will be back soon.”

Thorin does not respond. What is there to say? Kili coming back to his Halls will not change the situation. And seeing the hurt and rejection painted in his lover’s face every day again will just break his heart over and over again. Worse, he does not think he can do it. He does not think he has the strength in him to deny Kili any longer. And it is slowly driving him insane. For the first time in his life he can understand his grandfather’s obsession with gold. His father’s obsession with reclaiming Azsâlul'abad. Although he too had wished to reclaim their homeland in turn it had never possessed his every thought, his every breath. But Kili does. All that is on his mind is this unbearable want for his young lover. Not even to have sex – although admittedly he desires that too – but just to hold him and kiss him like a lover. To hold his hand and gaze into his beautiful deep brown eyes.

“I will let you rest a little longer,” Dis kisses his forehead and makes a move to slide off the bed.

But Thorin grabs her arm, “What about Gorm?”

“I think we have the matter in hand for now,” she smiles kindly. “Do not let it worry you for now, my beloved brother. “You should have no bother from him. Let the matters from yesterday be forgotten between us all.”

He nods slowly. “Thank you, _sannamad_. And thank you for accepting my love for him.”

Dis turns around and looks into her brother’s grey blue eyes. “Just look after him, Thorin. Please keep him safe,” she urges him.

“I promise.”

***

When Fili wakes up he finds the brightest pair of eyes look into his.

“Dwalin,” he smiles and stretches himself up to steel a kiss from the older dwarf’s lips.

Did you sleep well, little prince?” Dwalin says brightly, running his hands through the younger dwarf’s hair.

It is then that Fili realises that he is naked and hard in their early morning arousal, no doubt aided by dreams of the intimate acts from the previous night and he blushes slightly.

“Had nice dreams?” Dwalin observes with a smirk, the state of his lover not having gone unnoticed.

Fili grins. “I did. Did you?”

In response Dwalin suddenly nips at him and flips him on his back, biting down on his neck. “You are no dream! Ye’re my delicious buck and by Mahal’s beard ye’re good with that mouth of yers, young Durin prince.”

Fili giggles under the warriors nibbling and tickles as his hardness drags against his thigh. He has never enjoyed the morning after the night before. To not only wake up in his lover’s bed, but to have sexy fun together is a whole new experience and such a world away from leaving immediately after completing the act. And he feels such a fondness for the older dwarf, for the way her cares for him and looks after his needs. But also how he treats him as an equal rather than a trophy. He is well aware that as the prince of Durin he is seen as a particular conquest by both bucks and dams alike. Up till now he had felt rather flattered when he had heard his bed buddies brag about having been bedded by him. But that novelty is beginning to wear off. After all it has very little do with his performance or his personality. Just the fact that he was born the son of Dis, heir to the throne. And in that respect it is rather unflattering to be just a tick on someone’s list, not because they really desire him but just because he is the highest in rank anyone can get their hands on. He knows that is just the way their society works. But having seen Kili and Thorin together has really changed his perspective. And Dwalin is so different to anyone he has ever slept with. He makes him feel special, but not because of his inheritance.

“Dwalin?” he asks suddenly, making the bigger dwarf stop his attack and look at him.

“Yes, sweet prince?”

“I like this,” he blushes, suddenly unsure what he was even going to say.

“Me too, Fili, me too.”

“I like you.”

Dwalin grabs his face and presses a long deep kiss onto his lips. “I like ya too, little prince. I like being with ya.”

 “I really enjoyed last night,” Fili whispers softly, running his fingers slowly over Dwalin’s braided beard, threading his fingers around the coarse hair.

“I am glad ye did, little prince,” Dwalin rolls onto his side and pulls Fili hard against him.  “Would ye like to do it again?” he whispers hotly into his ear as he teases his hand down Fili’s side and onto his buttock, squeezing him firmly.

Fili feels himself pulsing with desire as he is growing even harder under the firm touch of his suitor. On the one hand he so desperately wants to give in and have rampant sex with the big dwarf. But on the other he wants to wait. He wants to wait because of his brother, but also because this feeling of building desire without being able to satisfy it immediately is delicious. It makes him want it even more and he knows that if he just holds out a little longer, just until the Midsummer Fest when Kili will be back, that the reward will be so good.

“Are y’alright, little prince?” Dwalin smiles at the blond heir who seems to be lost in his thoughts.

“Very alright,” Fili smiles back with a cheeky grin. _Not long now. Just until Midsummer._ And he feels for his lover’s cock and begins to stroke him in firm strokes as Dwalin treats him to the same.

***

Kili throws his head back in the soft pillows as he thumbs his slit. He thinks back to the first kiss he had shared with Thorin and he chuckles at his own ignorance when he got his first erection and thought that the end of his days had come. And how his uncle, his love, had subsequently shown him how to bring himself pleasure. _Oh Thorin, I miss you so_ , he thinks to himself as he begins to stroke himself slowly. They have had so little opportunity to share their love, but the moments they had had had been amazing. How he wishes for Thorin to be lying on top of him right now, riding himself into his body as he whispers heated words of love to him. _Oh Thorin, I want you so._

He is not blind. He has noticed the looks that others are giving him. From the dwarves these were subtle, so as not to cause offence to the higher ranking prince. Surreptitious invitations that said if he was interested his offer would be accepted. But here in Thafar'fundsilfînh he has also begun to notice the looks he is receiving from the elves. And it is flattering. Other than at the Midwinter Festival -when everyone had been drunk and horny and therefore that hardly counted - he had never experienced any flirting from anyone up till now. To find that others in their ignorance of his commitment to Thorin consider him to be a potential bed-mate is quite exciting for the young prince. After all, those few dwarves that have been blessed with their promised one during their mortal life are mature bucks and dams, with ample years of free courtship behind them. He does not think he has ever heard of a virgin blessed dwarf before.

He will never betray Thorin. But that does not mean he cannot fantasise about what things would have been like if Mahal had not promised him to the dwarf king. In particular he wonders what it would be like to court one of the elves. Has there ever been such a courtship in their combined history? Since the fall of Azsâlul'abad there had been a deep hostility between the dwarves and the elves. But things had not always been like that. They had been brothers in arms in years past.

But as he speeds up the rhythmic movement of his hand his attempt to imagine one of the elven kind in his bed is futile. Each time his fantasy quickly shifts back to his One. Thorin’s breath against his neck. Thorin’s large hands exploring every inch of his body. Thorin’s tongue teasing around in his mouth. Thorin’s thick erection sliding slowly into him until he is filled. _Oh Thorin!_ he screams inside his heads as he grunts through his orgasm. Panting heavily, he wipes his hand on the soft sheets and attempts to clean himself up with the same cloth.

“I miss you so much, my love,” he whispers into the space around him. And he silently curses himself for not returning to Thorin’s Halls with the rest of his company. He knows that when he finally does nothing has changed. That Thorin will still expect him to keep his distance, not to show his feelings for him. But there must be ways. They can go hunting together again. And how lovely would it be to make love under the naked sky. Even if it was but once a year. It would be a treat he would look forward to all year. Their secret. Yes, he could live with that. They will be more careful. The Halls will be out of bounds. But there are ways. He will not give up on Thorin – stupid stubborn dwarf that he is – that easily. He will make sure that Thorin will be gagging for him, that he will not be able to resist him.

And with a satisfied grin across his face he decides to snooze for a little longer, before he goes and find Skirvir to visit the elvish library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amagurith = bear cub  
> gálbhanith = little (young) sparrow  
> sannamad = best sister (literally: perfect sister)


	11. Revelations

Kili looks around the rows and rows of books and scrolls. He had been impressed by the collection that the dwarves held in their Temple library. But that faded into insignificance compared to these endless rows that stretch high and wide in front of his eyes.

“By my beard,” Skirvir utters next to him. “There are so many! What are you even looking for?”

“Just to find out more about the elves and where our history overlaps,” Kili lies. “We lost so many of our scrolls in Azsâlul'abad.”

Skirvir looks at him with boredom written across his face.

“You don’t have to stay,” Kili smiles, clasping him across the shoulder. “I don’t need you guarding me while I am reading!”

“No, no, I want to,” the dark haired guard answers quickly. Truth is he really has no interest in history lessons – especially not from the elves – or books full stop for that matter. But he will not pass up an opportunity to spend some more time with the dark prince.

“You must be Cunn Kili of Durin,” a tall female elf appears from behind one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. She looks as young as all her peers although Kili expects she will be Thorin’s age many times over. “Lord Nowë spoke about your request to access the royal library. I am Istiel and it is my honour to assist you.” She bows her head briefly. “Is it anything in particular that you seek, my Lord?”

Kili glances over at Skirvir, whom he had hoped would have got bored and left him to it already. “I … I wish to learn more about my people’s history,” he begins on neutral territory. “A lot of our written lore was lost in the flames when Erebor fell. I had hoped that there may be things written in the history of your people that … ehm … would give some insight into the time of the Seven Fathers of the Clans.”

Istiel raises an eyebrow. “That is ancient lore indeed. You seek to learn of the First Age? Do you not hold such lore in your Temple scrolls, master dwarf? I had understood that the priests of Aulë had managed to preserve some of those relics.”

Kili looks at Skirvir again, but the big dwarf has strolled off and is running his finger absentmindedly along the rows of books. “We do. But they are written in a forgotten script.” He opens up his coat and pulls out one of the copies that Ori had given him.

Istiel opens the scrolls and looks at it with interest. “ _Angerthas Daeron_.” She smiles kindly to the young prince in front of her. “Of course you may look at the scrolls and books that tell our ancient lore and see if you find anything of interest.” She cocks her head at the rather tall royal dwarf. “Or I could teach you to read the old runes.”

Kili’s mouth falls open in surprise. He knew the elves preserved knowledge better than any other race. But this was written in the secret language of his people, one that very few non-dwarrow knew. “Can you really?”

The elf woman smiles and nods.

“I … I am not very good at learning,” Kili flushes, remembering Balin’s frustrations with him as he had lost his concentration each time the older dwarf had tried to teach him anything.

“I am sure it will come more naturally than you might think, my Lord,” Istiel says kindly.

“If you’re sure … That … that would be fantastic,” Kili gasps. He glances back at his guard. “Skirvir!”

“Yes, my Lord,” the other comes running back.

“I dismiss you from you duties for the rest of the morning. Milady Istiel here will be assisting me with my research. Meet me at the archery range after High Noon.”

Skirvir narrows his eyes at the elfling, not amused that for the second time in as many days he has been sent away from his prince in favour of one of the elven kind. But he bows to Kili and turns on his heels.

Istiel leads the young dwarf prince to a huge table in the corner of the library and offers him a seat. He feels awkward with his dangling legs as he is sat on the tall high backed chair.

“Milady,” Kili begins. “Howcome you can read the ancient dwarvish runes?”

“My Lord, the _Angerthas Daeron_ were created by Lord Daeron, minstrel of King Elu Thingol of the Teleri,” the elvish woman smiles.

Kili stares at her with large eyes. “You mean … these runes … they were created by an elf?”

“Indeed master dwarf.” She places a large heavy book on the table and opens it with a heavy thud, pushing it in Kili’s direction. “Here,” she points to an illustration, which shows a written text in two scripts, one in the familiar elvish Tengwar and the other in what Kili had believed had been the script developed by his people. “Our people once lived together in harmony and they used the same scripts. This one,” she points at the runescript. “My Lord, could you draw me the _Angerthas Erebor?_ The runes which you are familiar with.”

Kili nods and takes the feather and the parchment that he is offered as he begins to draw the letters of the runescript. When he is finished he holds the piece of parchment up.

“Now look,” Istiel shows him and Kili bends himself closer. “See how there are similar strokes between the scripts. When the elves replaced the _Angerthas Daeron_ the runes became interlinked curved lines. Whereas your people made the old runes straighter, simpler, easier to carve into stone.”

Kili slowly nods. He can see it. In isolation the runes look completely alien. But now that he can see how they form the basis of their developed scripts it is not hard to see at all.

“Some letters have been taken out over time,” Istiel continues. “And some have been changed, influenced by exchanges with other races perhaps. But these are the foundations of both our scripts.”

Istiel takes the feather and draws a set of the old runes on a piece of parchment and hands it back to the dwarf prince.

“ _KILI_ ,” Kili states to his own surprise. “It says _KILI_.”

The elfling smiles.

Kili cannot believe it. He feels like he could cry. So simple and yet so powerful. It is like someone has ripped away the veil of concealment and suddenly he cannot understand how he could not previously see what he can see now. “It … it is so easy,” he stutters in disbelief.

“You are _Peredhel_ , you have the combined gift of our people.”

“I am what?” Kili asks, carefully. It is the same word that he had heard Lord Nowë refer him as.

 _“Peredhel._ Son of two races.”

“By Mahal’s beard!” Kili cries out, jumping to his feet. “No! No, it cannot be. You … you are saying…”

Istiel flushes, suddenly realising that what she had thought was known to the dwarf prince had been kept from him. How did he not know?

“I am an elf?! My father was an elf?!” Kili gasps.

“My Lord, please, I beg your forgiveness. I thought you knew. It is common knowledge amongst my people.”

“Dear Lord of the Anvil,” Kili stands shaking. _An elf. His father was an elf. Dis had lain with an elf and he had been born as a result from their joining._ “It cannot be,” he whispers. Elves are enemy. Haughty, untrustworthy. A race without honour. _Thorin_. If he had thought his love for his uncle to be impossible before … Does he know? No, he cannot. He would never have accepted the son of an elf into the royal line. _Shame!_ Tears are brimming in his eyes.

“Cunn Kili,” the elfling tries carefully. “It is a great honour.”

“Honour?!” Kili spits at her. “Do you have any idea what King Thorin will do to me when he hears I am a halfling?! I bring nothing but shame to him! And no wonder! I was cursed from the day I was conceived!!” He turns around and runs out of the library, tears streaming across his face. He runs and runs, past the guest quarters, past the Great Hall of LordNowë. Past the archery range where he almost bumps into Skirvir.

“KilI!” his guard cries out. “Kili, wait!”

“Go away!” Kili shouts back at him, never slowing his pace. “Leave me alone!” And he runs on, past the elvish guard house and onto the salt planes that run all along the estuary. And he sinks to his knees, sobbing into his hands. _No, no, no!_ It cannot be. Howcome his mother had never told him? She had said his father was dead. That he had died traversing the mountain pass. Was that even true? He is a halfling. Son of the enemy.

“Kili?”

He looks up, startled by his warrior guard.

“Kili, what happened? What did the elf do?!” he growls. “If she touched you…!”

Kili snorts. “Don’t be absurd! She did no such thing.”

“Then what …?”

“It does not matter,” Kili gets himself to his feet. “I … I just need some time alone, okay.”

“My Lord, you know I cannot leave you here. Not outside the guarded city. It is my duty …”

“Fine!” Kili snaps at him. “Then stay. But don’t speak. I … I just need to be alone with my thought for a while.” He picks up a pebble and throws it into the water, staring at the ripples.

Skirvir stares at him, shocked. Something terrible has happened. Why otherwise would his prince be so upset? And he will make these elves pay for whatever it is they have done. King Thorin had been right to distrust the elves!

***

Thorin stares at the scroll and the little speckled feather that has fallen out of it. He traces his finger over the runes in Kili’s handwriting. He can just picture the frown of concentration across the young prince’s face as he had painstakingly drawn each symbol. He knows it does not come naturally to the younger of the two brothers. Whereas Fili’s script is neat and consistent, Kili’s is messy and misaligned on the page.

_King Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror_

_Please find hereby my third and final report of my assessment of the defences of Khagolabbad Faraku._

He skips the first four paragraphs, which he had already read and which hold no real interest. They tell him nothing more than what he already knows from Kili’s previous reports and his own observation.

_I have provided Lord Suthri with my recommendations. I hereby consider my duties fulfilled. By the time this letter reaches you the company will be due to return in the next few days. However, Vrar, Skirvir and myself will not be accompanying them. I seek your permission to stay at Lord Nowë’s court in Thafar'fundsilfînh to learn about their custom and culture as part of my ongoing development.  I will return to your Halls, my Honourable Lord, before Lomil Zatamaradu to join in the celebrations._

_Please give my warmest greetings to my mother and brother._

_Forever at your service_

_Kili_

Thorin stares at the letter and frowns. _Lomil Zatamaradu._ Night of the Kill on the evening of the last day of 'âfizhu. The Summer Fest would start the day after tomorrow. That means that Kili is not planning to return home for another two moon cycles. And the sadness and anger that follows that realisation threatens to consume him. He had counted down the days until he would see his love again. For this to now be so far out of his reach again is pressing down on him like a physical weight. _How dare he make such a decision without his prior permission?!_

He picks up the little feather and holds it in the palm of his hand. He recognises it as the feather of a thrush, the bird that is said to signal the return of his people to the Lonely Mountain. And he cannot help but smile as he remembers something that happened many years ago, when he had taken Kili on one of his hunting trips and the young prince had found an injured thrush, which he had taken back to Oin and that he and Fili had nursed better over the months that followed. He knows it is a token. He knows that Kili refers to that same memory with this little symbol. And he knows that is means that he still loves him. A peace offering.

He shakes his head and places the little feather inside his tobacco pouch. _Kili, you stupid dwarf!_ He growls to himself. He can feel that worry and anxiety build in him again and it scares him. _Calm down_ , he orders himself and he gets up and walks to his harp. He runs his fingers slowly along the strings, before he seats himself barefooted on the floor in position to play his beloved instrument. As his fingers begin the plug at the strings he closes his eyes. It has been a while since he has played his harp and immediately the resonance of the strings sooths him. He joins the vibrations of the strings with his own deep singing voice, singing one of Kili’s favourite songs. The one that tells of a time long before the fall of Azsâlul'abad. Of when the Halls of the Mountain Fortress shone with gold and rang with the sounds of mining and forging. When Azsâlul'abad was the greatest kingdom on Arda and even the elves bowed down low before the Dwarrow King.

He jolts when he feels a hand on his shoulder, but immediately recognises the scent of his sister’s perfume. And he continues his song as she seats herself behind her him and begins the pull braids into his thick hair, joining his song with her own voice.

“That was beautiful, Thorin,” she says softly when the tones of the harp fade away.

Thorin turns himself to press a kiss on her forehead but he casts his eyes down.

“What is the matter?” Dis asks, seeing the deep sadness in her brother’s features.

 Thorin pushes himself up and walks towards his desk, picking up the scroll of parchment, which he promptly hands to his sister. “The company will arrive back shortly. But Kili will not be with them,” he states prematurely, before his sister has a chance to read the letter.

“What do you mean?!” Dis asks, her eyes growing large in a panic. “He’s … Is he …?”

“Hush, g _álbhanith_ ,” Thorin sooths, realising his mistake. “He is safe. He has decided to stay in Thafar'fundsilfînh until the end of summer,” he sighs.

Dis pales. “Thaforkûn? With Lord Nowë?”

“Indeed,” Thorin growls low in his throat. “He abandoned his duties in the Southern Mountains to visit the elves. Elves!”

Dis reads the scroll and sighs. “The elves in Thafar'fundsilfînh are not like their kin of the Northern Woods,” she tries carefully as her heart is racing.

“Elves are elves,” Thorin spits. “Haughty, arrogant and untrustworthy things.”

 “We are not at war with Lord Nowë, Thorin. You asked Kili to expand his horizon and that is what he is doing.”

“You are on his side?!” Thorin spits. “I will send a messenger and an escort to bring him back.”

“Why?”

Thorin stares at his sister in disbelief. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why will you bring him back like a prisoner? He is in no danger. He says he wishes to learn about their customs and culture. What is the harm in that?”

“I will not let a son of Durin live amongst the elves without my permission,” Thorin growls stubbornly. “He is to come home immediately!”

“Let me travel there.”

“What?” Thorin raises an eyebrow at his sister.

“Let me travel to Thaforkûn. And bring him back to you.”

“Out of the question.”

“Why? I am not with child. I have travelled there before when you refused to negotiate with Lord Nowë the passage through to the Southern Mountains.”

“The roads are unsafe. I will not have you travel there.”

She narrows her eyes at her brother. “I am no lass to be put away like precious gold, Thorin. I may not be a warrior like you, but I too know how to wield an axe and shoot a bow. I will travel with my own guards. He may be your lover, but he is my son.”

They stare at each other, battling silently. “You do not have my approval,” Thorin states curtly.

Dis knows she is dismissed. He may be her brother, but he is also the King. She can hardly disobey a direct order. “Do not drag him back like a child,” she warns him. “He will not forgive you for that.” And she leaves her brother to digest that thought as she storms out of his room.


	12. Festivals

Everyone is full of built up excitement as the beginning of the festival looms. After weeks of working from dawn till dusk the time for feasting is nearly upon them and already rumours have started in the bucks’ community of who will be given the honourable title of Harnkegger for the buck who has produced the most and best goods in his chosen trade and who will be an honoured guest throughout the festival, being granted the privilege of being the first to sample the first barrel of summer ale.

But within the House of Durin there is no such joy for the upcoming festivities. The tension between the Royal House and the Temple is almost tangible in the air and although Thorin and Gorm have wisely avoided each other since the last Council meeting, everyone knows that they will have to face each other during the festival to commence and bring to conclusion the festivities, offering the joint blessings of Durin and Mahal.

Thorin sits at the dining table grinding his teeth as he absentmindedly impales his dinner on his knife only to put it back down again.  

“Brother, you must eat,” Dis reprimands him, sharing a concerned look with Fili.

She had not seen much of her son recently. Like all other bucks he had been working extremely hard over the last moon cycle and even when he was back within the mountain fortress she hardly saw him around. And when she did, he tended to be in the company of Dwalin. She had begun to wonder if there was anything between the two of them.  The way they looked at each other in brief glances that they perhaps thought no-one else noticed. The way they stood just a little closer together than the otherwise would have. And she smiles at her eldest as he begins to blush under her stare. Aye, he has fallen for someone alright.

“May I be excused, uncle?” Fili asks and to his surprise Thorin waves a dismissive hand at him. It is not often he is allowed to leave the dinner table before they have all finished, but looking at his uncle’s plate that is not going to be any time soon.

On his way out he almost bumps into Balin. “Apologies, _Ezbaduh_ ,” Balin gives him a nod before he quickly walks on towards Thorin.

Thorin looks up, startled to find his advisor here. Normally dinner time is out of bounds for any of his advisors. It is one of the few moments in the day that he is not to be disturbed and gets to spend time with his family. Although now that the boys are grown bucks what was once some valuable family time had over time become more of a battle of wills between the three heirs of Durin whilst Dis played judicator. And now that Kili was gone … “Mister Balin, what brings you here?” he turns his attention to the dwarf hovering next to him.

“I am sorry to disturb your meal, Thorin.” He watches his King shove his barely touched plate away as he turns his attention towards him. “I just thought we need to talk about tomorrow.”

“What about it?”

Balin scrapes his throat as he tenses in anticipation of Thorin’s temper. “If it so happens that Gorm raises the matter of an heir again …” He can see the flame spark in Thorin’s eyes. “Now hear me out, please _Uzbaduh,_ ” he attempts to sooth. “If he does, may I suggest that you simply reassure your subjects that the royal line of Durin lies safe in the hands of Dis’ eldest. Do not go into discussion with him. And by Mahal’s beard, Thorin, do not lose your temper with him. I know you do not see eye to eye. And I hold no love for the dwarf myself. I think Gorm lost sight of his purpose to serve Mahal a long time ago and he seeks only to serve himself now. But the folk of Durin hold the Highpriest in high regard – as they should – and they do not see the politics behind the robes. They are simple folk, Thorin. Miners, crafters, toymakers. All they see and hear is that Gorm represents Mahal the Maker, utters his word, gives them his wisdom. Do not anger the masses, Thorin. You must keep your people on your side. You are vulnerable here, without the support from the other clans.”

Thorin scowls at his silvering advisor. “Do you think I do not know how to rule my people?” he hisses angrily.

“Aye, Thorin, I do. But of late you have not been yerself.” He throws Dis a furtive glance who nods in support.

 “You think I am going mad,” Thorin growls low as he returns his gaze to his abandoned dinner.

“I said no such thing,” Balin argues, keeping his concerns to himself. “But I know that you have acted irrationally and I am concerned for you. There are tensions between the Royal House and the Temple. And we both have concerns about Lord Suthri. It would not surprise me if Gorm has sent his representative back to Suthri to stir matters up. We must tread carefully, _Uzbaduh_.”

At that Thorin flicks his head back at Balin, a flicker of something between anxiety and rage behind his grey blue eyes. “You think Suthri will speak against me?”

Balin considers this for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I think Lord Suthri upholds certain different values to you.”

“Values?” Thorin snorts.

Dis has to agree with her brother on this one. She knows what Balin is referring to. Suthri – like Gorm – is an old traditionalist, who holds religious law above all else and considers dams of the lowest ranking in society.  She had argued with Thorin about it many times, but her brother had always maintained that although he was the Highlord and the heir to the throne he would not rule over such societal matters in the other factions. He did not for the dwarves in the Iron Hills and neither would he do so with the Southern Blue Mountains. “You are King now, _nadad_ ,” she sees her chance to raise the matter again, but the cold stare she gets in return makes her tongue freeze in place. She gets to her feet and nods as her brother’s dark eyes tell her that she is to leave. “Goodnight, brother. Balin.” And she turns on her heels and heads for her own chambers.

Thorin turns his attention back to Balin. “You need not worry,” he smirks. “I will not give Gorm the satisfaction.”

Balin nods. At least it is something. “Then I bid you goodnight, Thorin,” he bows and leaves the dining hall.

Thorin finds himself sat alone at the large table, staring unseeing at the dark wood. He pulls his tobacco pouch from his belt and pulls at the lace string. He reaches inside the little leather pouch and gently thumbs the little speckled feather he had put in there for safe keeping. When the company returned earlier that morning of course had been pre-warned that his lover would not be with them. Yet somehow it has still hit him hard as reality struck. And he finds that obsessive desire creep up on him again. How does the young dwarf have such a hold over him? He curses the betrayal of his body as he thinks about that soft skin, that cheeky smile, soft lips pressed warmly against his. And he can feel the stirring in his privates as he imagines pushing those soft pink buttocks apart to find the hidden treasure between them. _This is ridiculous!_ He silently scolds himself. He is King of Durin’s Folk and yet he continues to be distracted by these selfish primal urges.

He tries to return his attention to the festivities of the coming week. He normally enjoys the Deep Ale Fest. It is a time when his people celebrate the fruits of their hard labour, a joyous, proud occasion. But he fears for how events will unfold. He has no regrets; Gorm had been out of order in the Council Meeting and he had been right to defend his position and reinforce the boundaries of their power. But Balin had made some valid points. There were stirrings. Kili too had hinted at some of those in his letters, although of course he had had to be careful what he committed to paper. He does not trust Lord Suthri, especially not if he is in league with Gorm. He knows he has the power to remove Suthri from his position; however, he will need to have a pretty strong case to justify such a move. The older dwarf has a very strong influence on the _Farakûnh_ and as Balin had rightly pointed out this was not the time to alienate them. He needed to strengthen his rule, build up his kingdom, not cause distrust and discord between the scattered dwarves of Durin’s Folk.

He flicks his head up as suddenly the familiar smell of Kili’s heat stirs him, clear as if he is lying in his arms making love to him. His eyes flit around, despite knowing that it is just a figment of his dirty imagination.  And he rubs a large hand across his face as he feels like he is beginning to lose this battle with his sanity. _Kili. My love. Kili. My life. I need you. You belong to me._

***

Kili watches the elves swarm around like bees in a hive as they prepare for the Midsummer Festival. Normally many of them spend their days inside their tall marble structures and seeing most of the inhabitants of the harbour towns gathered together in one place is quite a sight. As he looks down onto the big square he thinks that the movement of silver and white silk gives the impression of waves rolling in and he thinks that these elves should be known as sea-elves as they appear to be one with that particular element.

But the strangest thing is the quiet. Despite so many of the elves gathered together any words spoken are hushed, as if they are all afraid to wake a sleeping child. He and his companions had already been given a briefing about the elvish custom of _Nedhlaer_. How from midnight onwards they would not speak until the sunrise the next morning when the prayers in honour of the Valar would commence.

And already he thinks how he misses his people, the elaborate, loud and merry festivals of the dwarves back home with song and dance and lots and lots of food and ale.

Then he starts as he realises once more that these are his people too. _Son of two races_. It had been but two days since his mother’s sin was revealed to him and still he cannot believe it. He is a dwarf! A proud dwarf of the royal house of Durin! There may be elvish blood in his veins, but he will never admit to this, to anyone. He will be the laughing stock of his people if not be cast out by Thorin himself. He looks at the swaying mass of tall elves and shakes his head. He is not one of them. He does not look like an elf, does not act like an elf – thank Mahal!  He is even beginning to wonder if Istiel had got it wrong. Perhaps she had mistaken him for someone else.

“Good afternoon, Kili _Ezbad_.”

He jumps as his guard startles him out of his thoughts. “Skirvir,” he smiles kindly.

“Not much of a festival, eh,” the other observes. “I wish we were back home. They will be bringing out the first kegs by now. Roasting the pigs…”

Kili can feel his mouth water and he feels a pang of guilt that he had ordered his guard and advisor to stay in Thafar'fundsilfînh with him, causing them to miss out on one of the best festivals of the year.

“Perhaps we should show these cold creatures how one truly pleases the Valar!” Skirvir grins as he picks an apple form the fruit bowl and takes a large chomp out of it. “Show them how we dwarves honour the gods!”

Kili smiles and he actually thinks that is a rather funny proposition. He turns to face his guard, only to find him stood so close behind him he almost turns into him and lets out an embarrassing squeak. “You made me jump,” he flushes under the grin the other gives him and he takes a step back to gain back some personal space.

“Apologies, Kili,” Skirvir flushes and he stares at the floor, shuffling his feet. “So ehm … what do you want me to do? During the festival I mean?” he says a little nervously, really wishing he was back in Thorin’s Halls getting merry with his friends and hoping to have find his luck later when the festivities are in full swing, rather than be stuck here in this strange place full of strange elves upholding their strange boring customs. The only thing that makes this assignment bearable is Kili.

“Just stay at my side,” Kili orders. Then he grins. “And find us some ale or wine. We will honour are hosts customs tonight. But tomorrow we feast as would befit the dwarves of Azsâlul'abad!”

Skirvir lets out an eager battle cry in response. “Aye, _Ezbaduh_ , we will show those elvish traitors how the dwarves make merry!”

Kili feels the stab in his heart as he watches his guard leave his room. _Elvish traitors_. No doubt he will branded as such if Thorin ever found out the tainted blood that runs in him. He claws at his skin, wishing he could pull out every bit of elf inside him and wash his sin away.

***

When Fili wakes up excitement pulses through him first as he realises that it is the start of the Deep Ale Fest today, quickly followed by disappointment that his brother will not be here to celebrate it with him. He had so been looking forward to this. Kili was of age now and it would have been the first time he would have taken part in the adult celebration. He cannot for the life of him work out why Kili would pass on such an opportunity when he had spent forty years looking forward to this day. Why would he choose to spend this festival day in the company of elves?

He had seen the rage under the surface of his uncle when Dis had told him that Kili would not be joining them for the festival. And he could not help but wonder if Kili was doing this to defy his lover, punish him for being sent away.  And he feels annoyed at the both of them for their petty games which are ruining the festival for him.

“Y’okay, little prince?”

He looks up into the crystal eyes of his older lover. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I just miss Kee.” And not only is he not here to raise the first pint with him, he has also ruined his plan to take his courtship with Dwalin to its peak tonight.

He feels in a rather uncharacteristically bad mood because of it all and tries to pull himself together as Dwalin pulls him back into a warm hug and he decides to snuggle up against his lover’s broad chest for a while longer, before they go and join what will no doubt still be great festivities – just not what he had anticipated today to be like.

***

Thorin lets his attendants help him into his ceremonial garbs and he accepts the heavy golden grown with pride blooming inside his chest. He may not have achieved what his father had set out to do, but he has at least returned some pride and status to his bloodline.

He has barely slept a moment all night and his dreams as always have been filled with indecent thoughts of his young lover. He curses himself for listening to his sister by not sending an escort to haul Kili back to his Halls kicking and screaming. Perhaps he would have been angry with him for it, but Kili is already angry with him regardless and at least it would have meant he could run his hands over that hot skin …

_No! You can never do that again! You should not even think such debauched thoughts!_

He pushes his attendants away in anger. “Leave it,” he snarls as they fuss with his mantle and he watches them scatter.

He sinks down into the large seat by the fireplace as he pulls out his tobacco pouch with the thrush’ feather again. He slowly twists the token of Kili’s love between his thumb and middle finger. The motion has become a ritual now. A necessity. A compulsion. It is as if he forfeits his love for Kili whenever his fingertips are not caressing that delicate relic. And he feel the pulse of anxiety begin to stir inside him again like a tidal wave, rising up and crashing down on him, seeking to drown the air from his lungs. The more he tries to fight it, the worse it gets and soon he finds himself gasping for air and his vision seems to have shrunk into this tube-like form.

***

Balin throws his brother a concerned look. Within the safety of Khagolabbad Dwalin does not tend to follow Thorin around in his capacity as royal guard – in fact he is quite sure he would end up having a serious fallout with his friend if he did – and they both stand waiting for their King at the entrance to the Temple quarters. Thorin is late. And they can both sense the impatient stirring of those around them as the festivities cannot begin without his blessing.

“Where is he?” Balin whispers anxiously.

“He will come,” Dwalin tries to sooth his brother, but he shares the same concerns. Thorin may not be very punctual but he never leaves his people waiting this long. When another few minutes pass without any sign of him, he puts a hand on his shorter brother’s shoulder. “I will go and see where he is,” he nods and Balin smiles a grateful but worried smile at him.

As he strides back towards the royal quarters, he can hear Fili chase after him and fall in line with his step. “You think he is alright?” the blond prince asks nervously.

Dwalin is unsure what to respond. He is not at all sure that he is and he can feel worry creep up his spine as they approach the royal chambers, but just then Thorin appears in his full ceremonial robes looking every bit as majestic  and intimidating as he should as the dwarrow king. Both Dwalin and Fili simultaneously utter a sigh of relief.

“ _Uzbaduh_ ,” Dwalin nods to his king and his regal robes.

Thorin looks calm enough but he stops any further conversation with a brief signing of his hand and Dwalin and Fili silently follow the king towards the Temple quarters, not daring to ask any questions as to why Thorin is so late.

Balin breathes out in relief as he can see the King approach and he watches the dwarrow lined up along the Temple entrance drop to their knee in honour of their king. Being of the higher ranks he simply is required to bow his head, which he does as Thorin comes to stand next to him. “ _Uzbaduh_ ,” he whispers. “We thought you were inconvenienced.”

“I was simply held up,” Thorin dismisses the concerns. Balin does not need to know that he had forgotten the time, lost in his thoughts about Kili once more.

“King Thorin,” Gorm announces loudly as he strides up to them. And although both leaders maintain their professional stance and distance, the animosity fizzles between them.

The traditional prayers and blessings are carried out in accordance with their customs and Balin is relieved that all seems to go as intended, without insult or incident. The crowd does not appear to notice the tension between the younger king and the older highpriest and they roar in appreciation as the blessings of Durin and Mahal announce the start of the festival.

Balin clasps Thorin’s forearm as he returns to him. “Blessed Ale Fest,” he smiles at him and Thorin nods and smiles in return as he leads the crowd to the Main Hall where he will be seated on the dias to oversee the drinking and feasting of his people.

***

Kili watches with amazement as the elves begin to sing. No-one appears to have giving a signal, and yet the eerie silence is suddenly swallowed by this harmonious tone that rises in volume like a hurricane. He, Skirvir and Vrar stand near to Lord Nowe, who also joins in in the strange sounding syllables that harmoniously float through the air.

Skirvir and Vrar shuffles uncomfortably next to him, feeling so very out of place amongst this tall and perfect beings. But Kili finds himself mesmorised by it. And to his own surprise he softly begins to hum along to the repetitive chanting, wishing he could understand the words they are singing.

When Lord Nowe smiles at him in appreciation, he feels himself glow and reprimands himself silently for it, feeling like a traitor, and he quickly shuts his mouth.

The chanting seems to go on forever, but eventually the sound dies down as only the elvish Highpriestess can be heard chanting what Kili assumes are the blessings for the festival.

The three guests are relieved when the official ceremonies are over and they are led to the Great Hall for the continuation of the festivities.

“Yay, food!” Skirvir calls out, a little too loudly and he snaps his jaw shut under Kili’s reprimanding look.

But the young prince has to agree with pleasurable prospect of food and drink and even though he and his guests had not been required to fast like the elves did prior to the festival, he is starving nonetheless.

He is frustrated when they are expected to sit down at the tables and have to listen to more prayers before they are even allowed to touch the food. Even then, it is just not the same as the Deep Ale Festival and Midsummer Feast at home. The food is nice, but not as ample as back home and although there is fish there is no meat, which surely is the highlight of any feast?! And the elvish wine just does not come close to the early summer ales.

“By Mahal’s hammer!” Skirvir cusses. “This is no feast!”

Vrar frowns at him, but Kili cannot help but agree. He knows they have to stay a while longer because it would be impolite not to, but … “How about we go hunting after?” he says in Khuzdul. “And we’ll try and get a nice boar to roast?”

Skirvir’s eyes light up at that. “Oh yes, Kili _Ezbad!_ ”

Kili smiles that he has managed to come up with a solution for the disappointing situation, although Vrar clearly disapproves as he shakes his head. “Well, you do not need to come with us in that case,” he snaps at his elder and he turns back to the food and wine that is on offer right now.

***

For a while he contently watches his people enjoy the rewards of their hard labour as they eat and drink and sing their loud and proud songs.

"Eat, _nadad_ ," his sister tries to encourage him. "You too have worked hard and you deserve the blessings of our hard labour.”

Thorin nods and accepts the meat offered to him by the servant staff. He knows that the best cuts will have been chosen for him and he wants to be grateful, but he eats purely out of politeness rather than hunger.

He attempts to make casual conversation with those around him, enquiring after their work and achievements. He talks to Gloin about his family. And then he turns to his heir, who is seated next to him.

"How is work in the forge going, Fili?"

The blond prince answers proudly, "Very well, uncle. Business has been good and we are now getting more orders for fine jewellery."

Thorin smiles at his nephew. "You are very skilled indeed. You do me proud, nia. And how are things with you?" he lowers his voice a little as he bends himself closer to Fili. "As I understand you have taken courtship with someone very dear to me."

Fili blushes slightly. "I have,” he answers casting his eyes down. "Do ... do you mind?"

Thorin places his hand on Fili's arm. "I am delighted for you," he says earnestly. "You are both very important to me. As long as you are happy,“ he smiles.

"Thank you, uncle," Fili smiles. He hesitates for a moment, trying to assemble enough courage. "Thorin, would I have your permission to visit Kili in Thaforkun?" he regrets his request instantly as he watches the darkness fall over his uncle's face.

"No!" Thorin suddenly thunders at him.

The hall falls silent instantly as everyone stares at the royal dias. Fili has paled and the others around the table have all tensed.

"I...  I miss him is all," Fili whispers and he cringes as he realises he's only digging himself a deeper hole.

"No one is going to the traitorous elves!" Thorin roars. "That is an order! Anyone who dares defy me will be considered a quisling and will not be welcome back in my halls!"

Everyone stares at the king as everyone thinks the same thing. But it is Gorm who takes the opportunity to ask the question that no-one else dares ask. "Thorin _Uzbad_ , I applaud your wisdom," his voice cuts through the tension. "And will this rule apply to those who have already forgotten their alliance, my lord? Such as your nephew, who has brought offence to Mahal by celebrating Midsummer with the elves rather than honouring Him with the proper rituals and prayers in the Temple?"

All eyes flick from the Highpriest to the King with held breaths as the dwarves of Durin’s folk anticipate the response.

"You speak out of turn," Dis is quick to jump in before her brother has a chance to respond. "My son will return now that the king has decreed this rule. But no law applies retrospectively." She looks anxiously to her brother to confirm the statement. _Oh Thorin, what have you done? You have no idea what you've just done._

Thorin stares from Gorm to Dis and back to Gorm. "You dare question the honour of my nephew?" Thorin growls, ignoring his sister's attempt to settle this matter in a politically acceptable manner. "Dare you challenge the House of Durin?!"

Gorm is turning an unhealthy shade of red as he steps forward towards the king. With a raised finger, he retorts, “I dare challenge that the same rules should apply to all! Please tell the good folk of Durin, king Thorin, why lord Kili is not present at the festival today. Why he left the court of Lord Suthri early in order to visit and stay in an elvish city at the court of an elvish Lord?”

There are in-draws of breath around the round. The detail of the youngest prince’s delayed return had not been shared around and Gorm is really not painting Kili’s decision in the best light.

Thorin rises to his feet, ready to defend the love of his life. Balin pulls at his sleeve, trying to get him to calm down, hissing at him not to say anything, but Thorin is not good at keeping his mouth shut when he is angry. “I will not have you challenge his honour!” he roars. “Kili has Mahal’s blessing! You … you.” He clasps at his thick furred mantle as the room starts to fade in and out of focus rapidly and the sounds around him become slow, low tones that he can no longer distinguish. His body tingles and yet it feels like his skin is not attached. The only sound he can distinguish is his sister’s cry before the world vanished in that abyss that takes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more info on dissociative stress-triggered seizures :  
> http://www.epilepsysociety.org.uk/non-epileptic-seizures#.U90qw_ldVqU  
> http://www.neurosymptoms.org/#/dissociative-symptoms/4533053148


	13. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter in part 3 of Lofn. Be ready with tissues!
> 
> NB. part 4 will be appropriately tagged with warnings. Hope to see you there! Thank you for reading with me :D

Kili feels a surge of excitement when he and Skirvir leave the harbour town, riding two of the smallest horses that the elves were able to provide. Luckily they are both tall for their race and it is not too much of a problem for the well-practised riders.

“I am glad to be away from there,” Skirvir says as they dismount. “Them elves, they are just strange folk.” He eyes his prince who is pulling his bow and arrows from the saddle pack. “When are we going home, _Ezbad_?” he enquiries carefully, not wishing to cause offence.

“Soon,” Kili promises as he tests the tautness of his bow. In truth he too wants to go home now. He misses everyone – his mother, Fili and of course Thorin – and he misses home, the  familiarity of the surroundings and customs. But he still has one thing he needs to do here in Thaforkun, before they can leave. “Now let’s get some decent food to honour Mahal!”

Between the two skilled hunters it does not take long before they have tracked a good sized wild boar and less than an hour later they are sat around a campfire, waiting for the meat to cook.

“My lord …” Skirvir begins, his cheeks warm with the glow of the fire.

Kili looks up when the larger dwarf does not continue. “What is it, Skirvir?”

“I … I do not mean to cause offence …” the other stares nervously at his feet.  “I was just wondering … Is … is there someone waiting for you back in Thorin’s Halls? In courtship, I mean …” he blushes fiercely now and wishes he had never said anything.

Kili considers the question, unsure how to respond. It is too dangerous, he decides in the end. And besides, he does not even know if there still is someone waiting for him. Thorin had made it ample clear to him before he was sent away that they could not be lovers. He slowly shakes his head, even though that action in itself feels like betrayal of his beloved.

Skirvir can feel the tiniest flicker of hope bubble up inside him as the prince denies the existence of a suitor back home.  He knows this is his chance – his only chance – as only now during the Festival time may he make his move on the young prince. He can feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest and his palms are sweaty. He really really likes the dark, handsome prince and although he is pretty sure he will be rejected, he still has to try.

He weighs up how best to go about this. He has not been on this side of the fence before. Being of their lower ranks the suitors normally come to him if they have any interest in him. And this is one of the princes of Durin! Does he make some elaborate proposal? In the end he decides to just move in for the kill.

Kili freezes as his guard makes a sudden move towards him and he loses his breath in an unexpected chaste kiss. When Skirvir pulls away he stares wide-eyed at him, the tingle of the kiss still on his lips.

“Skirvir, w…what…?” he stutters. He had never expected this to happen. As the most senior ranking dwarf under Thorin it just did not happen that anyone came on to him. But he had forgotten about the freedoms of the festivals. The Midsummer Fest did not require their people to copulate in order to honour the gods – like the Midwinter Festival did – but many still choose this welcome opportunity to court, when the two communities came together and the lower ranks could approach those more privileged in standing than them. Sure, offers of courtship from the lower in rank were normally verbal and not this forward, but technically it was not forbidden. “You seek to court me?” he asks incredulously.

Skirvir has gone a deep shade of red as he stares at his hands, embarrassment washing over him. “I … I do, _Ezbaduh_ ,” he answers nervously. “I … I am sorry. I should not have … But with the festival …”

Kili does not know what to say although not saying anything will only make this situation more awkward.

“You do not accept …” Skirvir sighs, feeling his heart shatter at the realisation that Kili is not returning the gesture.

“Skirvir, I …” Kili takes a very deep breath. “I think you are a very attractive buck,” he decides to start with some flattery to sooth the wound. “It is not you, Skirvir. Had things been different, then perhaps …” He knows he should not say this, but how else is he going to get out of this situation without being rude. Of course he should just say no. He has the right to decline the offer. But it proves not as easy as it sounds now that it is just the two of them out here. “I was not completely honest with you,” he says before he can stop the words. “There is someone back in Thorin’s Halls …”

Skirvir flushes and lets his head hang. “I … I see. I thought … You said …”

“I know I did and I am sorry. It … it is … complicated.”

Skirivir jumps to his feet. “I apologise, my Lord,” he whispers, but he feels a sudden anger rise up in him. It is not his fault. He had asked Kili upfront and he had not been honest with him. If he had then he would never have … And now Kili had let him make a fool of himself.

“W…where are you going?” Kili asks as he watches the other dwarf stomp off.

“Don’t worry, your majesty, I will be close enough to defend you. As it is my duty,” Skirvir snaps back. He knows he should not, that he is being rude. But he cannot help but blame Kili for his embarrassment and it makes him feel rancorous towards the dwarf-prince. He sinks against a tree, just on the edge of the clearing and tries to calm down. He can feel the humiliation pulse in his cheeks. Being rejected was one thing … but being rejected for another when he had thought there to be none … And who was this dwarf back in Thorin’s Halls that was the reason for his humiliation?  Who had stolen the prince’s heart away from him? He feels a sudden rage towards this unknown rival. And a devious jealously begins to bloom inside him as he thinks that if only this other could be moved out of his way … Kili had said that if things were different, then perhaps … One obstacle that stands between him and the prince he has desired for so long. Five more months until the next major festival. A determination sets itself firmly the more he thinks about it. Dwarves do not remain in courtship, especially not young ones like him and Kili. He just needs to let the other trip over and Kili will soon look for another to play with. And he will make sure that next time it is him.

***

The Great Hall of the mountain fortress has never been this quiet. One would be able to hear a sigh amongst the hundreds of people if not everyone was holding their breath. Their mighty, magnificent king, the heroic prince who led his people to the safety of Khagolabbad and rebuilt their home here, who had given the homeless clan a proud and mighty kingdom once more, has collapsed and lies motionless on the floor of the dias.

Slowly hushed whispers begin as anxiety grows. _Is the King dead?_

Fili, who had been knelt next to his mother as they tried to call Thorin back to their world, looks at Balin who nods to him. He knows what is required. They have practised this scenario many times over since his coming of age, although Fili had never thought that the day would come so soon. With his heart thumping in his throat he slowly rises to his feet. He holds up his arms as he calls for the attention from those around the room. “Folk of Durin,” he says with trembling voice. “The king has fallen ill. Do not worry, my uncle will be looked after by the best healers and will hopefully be well enough to bless the end of the festival. For now, brothers and sisters, please continue to feast in honour of Mahal and in honour of the Royal House of Durin! We stand strong before you!”

The dwarves gathered before him look nervously at the young prince. They have never heard Fili address the masses before and it is unsettling. Even though the words suggest that Thorin is not that ill, the fact that the young prince is stepping in his shoes to address them tells them otherwise. Slowly the people begin to move, pick up conversation and pick up their abandoned food and drink.

Gorm stands in the middle of the hall before the dias still, staring at the motionless form of his adversary. And then he stares at the young crown prince, who throws him an evil glare before he turns his back. Slowly he backs away and leaves the Great Hall as others try to continue where they left off – although the spirit has well and truly gone as each continues to glance worriedly over at the happenings on the dias, now blocked from view by Thorin’s advisers and guards.

***

Whereas Dis had felt fairly calm the last time Thorin lost consciousness, this time tears are streaming down her face. Perhaps the fact that her brother is not even moving this time makes it even worse. Although the thrashing was horrible to witness, at least she knew he was alive. But this time around her brother gives not the slightest sign of life as he lies completely still in his bed. Oin has taken all sorts of measurements, from his neck and his wrist, looked in his eyes and his mouth, and has assured her that Thorin is alive. But as she strokes his limp hand she fears that he will never again open his eyes.

Equally she frets for her sons. Fili who is in the Great Hall shouldering responsibilities for which he is not yet ready. And Kili who is far away and unaware of how ill his uncle – and his beloved – is.

Dwalin paces the room and she wants to throw something at him as the motion is making her even more anxious. “Dwalin, please go and look after Fili,” she orders him in the end, both to get him away from under her feet and to give her son all the support he needs as he tries to reassure their people. She is proud of her oldest, proud of how he had handled himself in this most awful of situations.

As Dwalin nods and promptly follows her instructions, she returns her attention to Oin. “Please tell me, will he ever wake up again?”

 “I do not know, Dis _Azbad_ ,” Oin says honestly as he keeps his eyes trained on his king. “I have never seen anything like this. He is alive, but it is like he is not there. Like he has gone to sleep, but does not know how to wake up again.”

Dis stares at her brother as the tears roll in great streams down her face. “May I have a moment alone with him, Oin,” she says.

The old healer nods – there is nothing he can do for the king anyway – and he leaves the royal chambers, softly closing the door behind him.

Dis moves closer to the head of the bed and bends herself down to press a lingering kiss on her brother’s forehead. “Thorin, my sweet brother, please come back.” Then she makes a decision. “I am going to go to Thafar'fundsilfînh and I am going to bring Kili back to you. I know you have forbidden it, but he needs to be here. If it is your turn to go to Mahal’s Halls then your soulmate should be here to say goodbye.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> NB. I have tried to make this story as much submurged in the world of the khazad as I can. Therefore all place names are khuzdul rather than sindarin as they are in The Hobbit and LoTR. Please refer to the appendix for reference.


End file.
